


Achromatic Impasto

by UchidaKarasu



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cancer, Character Study, F/M, First Time, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 108,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchidaKarasu/pseuds/UchidaKarasu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. KakaIta and SasuSaku. All it takes is one second for lives to be devastated beyond recognition. It takes a lifetime of seconds to piece it back together again. Sometimes, though, there aren't enough seconds in life to make it okay again. [amarx17]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Texture and Line

**Author's Note:**

> This is very character driven, especially on Itachi's side. If you want the characters to immediately start boning, then this is not the story for you. This is a story about life - what these characters go through, fears, happiness, love, illness, family issues, hate, even some mental issues because you know we all have them as people, and all the mundane. It's about art, and beauty, and pain, and civil rights for people like me, and if you don't like it, then don't read it. Or flame it, because I love flames. They make me happy inside.
> 
> Anyway. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter One  
 _Texture and Line  
_ -  
“Man performs and engenders so much more than he can or should have to bear.  
That's how he finds that he can bear anything.”  
 _William Faulkner_

 

Itachi looked rather uncharacteristic to his usual default.

His long hair was pulled up into a messy, high ponytail, and yet he had missed quite a few strands during the process.  They flowed around his cheeks in varying lengths and curved in gentle wisps around his ears, tucked there absently.  The soft ebony locks glistened in the low light of the room, clean and shiny, but even from Sasuke's view from the doorway, he could see streaks and clumps of colour.  Red, blue, green, yellow, white...even a black that somehow shone different than the dark surrounding it.

His hair wasn't the only aspect of Itachi's appearance that had been taken over by multitudes of colour.  Even though Sasuke only had a profile view of his older brother, he could tell that his entire body had been affected somehow.  There were smudges on Itachi's nose where the Uchiha heir had clearly rubbed an itch off-handedly with the back of his hand, and there was a thick dribble down his cheek and neck from where a wet paintbrush was tucked behind his ear.  His clothes were utterly ruined with splatters or general spills of vibrancy, which probably wasn't much of a problem since Itachi had been painting in a gigantic white t-shirt and a pair of black Thai fisherman pants.  His black, square-framed glasses were also speckled with paint, and Sasuke wasn't sure how Itachi could focus on his painting if he couldn't see properly.

Sasuke watched him for a while, a small smile on his lips.  There was a certain tranquillity to it, with the soft golden light that filtered through the five massive windows to Itachi's right.  It was peaceful in a way, to see that bit of normality after such an upheaval in their life.

They had just moved to a new home, they being Sasuke, Itachi, his mother Mikoto, and his father Fugaku.  It was the first time in conscious memory that Sasuke had ever lived in the capital city of the Fire Country, Konohagakure, although they had stayed there on holiday occasionally, but _unconsciously_ he had spent the first four years of his life there.  Regardless, the home was new, so the experience was also new, and he had spent the first few hours exploring rather childishly.

Apparently during Sasuke's time memorising his new home, Itachi had set up shop. Made sense, really, considering that was always the first thing he did.  They had lived in three other places across the world due to Fugaku's job — Sunagakure, Takigakure, and Iwagakure — and Itachi consistently just piled his bags in his chosen room and immediately set up his studio.

Mind, Sasuke wasn't any different when he found his own personal room, but he hadn't immediately started gaming either.  He just checked it out, visualised what he was going to do with it, and then left for more exploring.

Itachi stopped for a moment, tilting his head to the side as if appraising his work, and then the paintbrush he was working with was shoved unceremoniously into the knot of his ponytail.  Amused, Sasuke watched his brother's long, slender fingers reach up and dig into the thick paint, alternating between wild strokes to gentle caresses as he manipulated the colours to his liking.  Sasuke wasn't sure what Itachi was trying to convey in the almost nonsensical painting, but it admittedly was uncommonly beautiful to look at.  It didn't actually _depict_ anything, really, instead just being a mad whirl of colours, line, and texture, but it was sort of calming through the insanity of it all.

Then Itachi absently scratched an itch under his eye, moving the glasses up and down with the movement, and smeared paint upon his face, so Sasuke decided to intervene.  “Itachi,” he greeted cordially, and then continued more naturally, “you've got paint on you.”

Itachi's almost serene expression didn't change, but his smooth voice said quietly, “A rather ingenious observation on your part, Sasuke.”  Sasuke snorted, walking up behind his brother and watching as Itachi's left hand melded a mix of yellow, green, blue, and red into a dull brown, while his right made a yellow-green mess.

After a few moments, Sasuke decided to helpfully say, “Father wants to go out to dinner.” Itachi didn't respond, too engrossed in what his hands were doing to speak, so Sasuke added, “This means you'll have to look presentable, you know.  If you come out like that, Father won't be very pleased.”

Itachi hummed under his breath, a low-pitched and absent sound, his soft brown eyes fully absorbed in his work.  However, his hands slowed and eventually stopped, and he bit his lip with a small frown.  “I don't feel like going out,” said Itachi dully, eyes glancing at Sasuke.

Sasuke rolled his eyes.  “Don't have much of a choice.  Do you have anything to wear that doesn't look like it belongs on a homeless painter?  Because you know he's going to want to eat at that steakhouse.”

Itachi grimaced lightly, and for good reason: the oldest Uchiha brother was a vegan.  It was pretty lucky that they were rather well-off in the money department due to Fugaku's profession, because Itachi was ungodly strict about being vegan.  His clothes, toiletries, bedding, and even his medicines and vaccinations were vegan.  Hell, Itachi mixed his own paint and made his own paintbrushes by hand, because there were no real viable options on the market.  Well, there probably were, but Itachi also said that it brought him a sense of pride to create the colours himself.

It was also rather lucky that the Uchiha family supported this strange lifestyle.  The house was cleaned in vegan-friendly products, to give Itachi the peace of mind. He probably wouldn't have brought it up much, but the entire household accommodated him out of some sort of familial duty.  Sasuke thought he was a bit mental, and very much enjoyed a medium-well steak, but he allowed it and tried not to be overly insensitive in front of his brother.

Itachi was a tree-hugging hippie, but Sasuke loved him anyway.

His older brother finally stood up in his usual graceful way, stretching his back.  A small pop sounded in the room, and Itachi sighed, straightening himself out. Languidly, he pulled out the paintbrush lodged in his ponytail and dropped it into a glass filled with murky water, picking up the entire glass in his paint covered hands.  “I have to wash all of these out,” Itachi stated, starting to walk towards the sink in the corner.  “But I'm sure I'll be somewhat presentable in about thirty minutes.  Father can wait, I'm sure.”

“You have a paintbrush behind your ear too,” mentioned Sasuke off-handedly, smirking slightly when Itachi paused mid-step and grasped it.  The elder Uchiha blinked and then began walking again, finally reaching the sink and beginning to clean out his brushes methodically.  Sasuke continued, “I'm sure he will, though.  It's not like he'll leave you behind by any means. Mother wouldn't allow it.”

It had taken Fugaku and Itachi years to come to a comfortable agreement. For a long time, Fugaku had been rather stern with Itachi, only seeing the prospect of someone with Itachi's genius as the head of Uchiha International.  Because of that, Sasuke had been inadvertently been ignored by his father in response to the 'grooming period' of Itachi's pending inheritance to the company.  By the time Itachi was thirteen, however, it had become rather clear to the two of them that Itachi did _not_ want anything to do with UI, and it had taken a series of rather uncharacteristic explosive fights for them to reach a truce.

Uncharacteristic indeed — Itachi _never_ fought with tongue or fists, because he was a pacifist and deemed it ridiculous.  _Fight with the mind and intelligence, never with anger or violence, because it makes you a stronger, better man_ , Itachi had told Sasuke once (something that Sasuke still couldn't hold down, because he quite _liked_ to punch people, really).  However, when Itachi did fight with anger and violence, one could immediately tell that it was a serious problem.  When Itachi rose his voice or used vulgar language, he was pissed and angry.  When he got in someone's face or started throwing fists around in an effort to cause pain, he was literally exploding.

Sasuke had only heard of Itachi hitting someone once, and Sasuke had been there.  Simply put, in December of the previous year, Itachi and Sasuke had been mugged. They had just stood there, letting the bastards take their wallets and jewellery, when one of the five guys had lost control for no apparent reason and had hit Sasuke once with a baseball bat.  He had raised his arms to deliver another blow and Itachi had just lost it. Sasuke had quickly joined in regardless of his injury, because he had wanted to kick arse the second they had been surrounded.

Sasuke had sustained a broken arm from the hit and quite a few bruises. Itachi had been stabbed once in the abdomen, nowhere dangerous but terrifying on principle.  The five guys, however, were in federal prison after being knocked unconscious.  Surprisingly, Itachi was rather _good_ at using violence.  Well, Itachi was good at _everything_ really, but after so long seeing Itachi as a non-violent man who wouldn't even eat animals because it was 'murder', it had been a shock.  For obvious reasons.  

Anyway, Itachi and Fugaku were still relatively amiable by the end of it but the doting was over, that was for sure.  Itachi wanted to live somewhere glamorous and beautiful, painting all day and living life to its fullest, whereas Fugaku was rather complacent with his multi-million dollar technology company and wanted to continue his legacy.  Itachi didn't fit into that vision any more, so Fugaku, in true Uchiha style, had evolved said vision.

So Sasuke, who was _totally_ okay with the idea of being paid millions of pounds to mess with tech and boss people around, was the new protégé of Uchiha International.  This was brilliant in his opinion, and being groomed for the position was nothing really note-worthy.  His father would just have to wait a few more years before he could retire, which was relatively okay for the lot of them.  Itachi was seventeen whereas Sasuke was fifteen; sure, Itachi was smarter and probably could've taken his A-levels at twelve, but he didn't apply himself except what was required to pass.  Sasuke, on the other hand, worked hard and kicked arse at school, something he was really proud of.

Things had really changed in the years since Itachi had thrown away his right to inherit the family business.  Sasuke was shadowed by Fugaku, whereas Itachi had found an easy relationship with his mother.  Which was okay with him, honestly, because the family had more than enough love to go around, even if it didn't seem very affectionate.

It wasn't like some of the other Uchiha families, thankfully.  Their cousin Shisui, whose father was the Deputy-Director of the Company, thought that to make the perfect child, one had to use harsh words and heavy hands.  Actually, it was relatively common for domestic abuse in Uchiha families, probably due to the infamous temper. Sasuke was lucky his family was out of _that_ norm.

They parted ways, Sasuke heading towards the family room while Itachi finished cleaning.  He could hear the soft tones of his parents speaking when he approached, probably something to do with the movers, and that sound lulled him in the direction of their voices.  He did love his parents, even if his father could be unnervingly stern and critical of things he didn't approve of.

Like Itachi's homosexuality, for instance.  That had caused a right explosion in the Iwa house, which wasn't exactly surprising.  Uchiha Fugaku had nothing against homosexuality, no, but Itachi had been twelve when he had airily come out in the middle of Sunday brunch, and back then Fugaku had been planning the future.  _Go to university and earn a computer science and business management degree, work at Uchiha International to prepare for taking over, marry a nice girl, take over the company, and have at least one child to have an heir to the business_ pretty much summed up Uchiha Fugaku's thoughts, honestly.  Sasuke had had that drilled into his head quite a lot: that he had to get married and have kids to continue the lineage.

Obviously, back when Itachi had been the one to inherit the company, that had proposed a bit of a problem.  Sure, Itachi could've used a surrogate, but it just wasn't the same, not really, especially since Itachi said that he never wanted kids anyway.  Itachi didn't have much of a patience for them, honestly.  He just wasn't suited for the parenting job.

He had been good to Sasuke during his toddler days, but that was probably because being related to Sasuke had forced him to amiable.  Or something like that.

He stood outside the doorway for a while, just listening to his parents speaking.  Despite everything, he really did love his family.  They balanced each other out relatively well, and were quick to jump at another's need.  They were a bit standoffish to outsiders, sure, but that was because most people just wanted to be photographed by a paper or be given free money.  They were always there for each other with a bizarre, probably uncommon expression of love and companionship, and no one could really get in the way of that.  They were a well-rounded family, composing of all ends of the spectrum, and they just _worked_.

God, he was getting overly sappy.  He smacked himself against the cheek lightly to pull himself out of it and finally entered the family room.

His parents looked up at him. He gave them a half-hearted salute, one of those terrible ones that spoke of insubordination, but he didn't really feel like doing much more.  He felt heavy, almost lethargic, and as he sat down on one of the new couches that would soon be broken in, he suddenly felt the need for a nap.

It was jet lag.  He had spent twelve hours on an aeroplane, so he was entirely justified to have a snooze.

“Itachi's getting ready.  He broke out the paint.”  Nothing else needed to be said about that, honestly.  Fugaku closed his eyes as if frustrated and Mikoto just smiled, a soft one that made her look less like Sasuke himself. Sasuke and his mother looked rather a lot alike, but when she smiled, the similarities dwindled a bit.  She smiled with her mouth and eyes, but it was dignified regardless of the emotional strength behind it. Sasuke, on the other hand, smiled with his entire body, really.  It used to be embarrassing, but he had gotten over that years ago.  His father did the same thing, too, to tell the truth.  When Father smiled or laughed, it was with his whole body.

He stretched out his body on the couch, yawning widely, and listened to his parents continue their conversation.  They were talking about the movers, who had apparently misplaced some of the master suite furniture.  Figured.  Even being a high-rated agency doing a job for a well-paying employer, people couldn't do their jobs right.

About twenty-five minutes later, Itachi decided to show up.  Hair clean and pulled back into the customary low ponytail that left a fringe around his face, dark eyes fully visible due to contacts, smartly dressed in a greyscale vest suit with black tie...well, it could've been worse.  He was being respectful towards the first meal back in their hometown.  The last time they had been to a steakhouse, Itachi had worn a pink PETA t-shirt with a cartoon of a pig's face and words saying ' _Love Me, Don't Eat Me_.'  Mind, that hadn't gone over well, until they had gotten to the restaurant.  A fat, cherry red man had said obnoxiously, “There's room for all God's creatures...right next to my mashed potatoes, you fucking fairy.”

It had gone over much better then, due to Fugaku standing up, blinking once, and promptly assaulting the guy.  When they had bailed him out of jail after calling the family lawyers, he had said, ' _Itachi, you did nothing wrong.  I wasn't fond of that shirt either but you have the freedom of expression.  That arsehole deserved what he got._ '

Mikoto had replied, ' _Violence is never the answer dear.  It escalated to a point that it should've never gotten to.  Call Mason and get ready for the resulting lawsuit._ '  Which she was ultimately right about: the guy had sued, it had gotten press attention, and then the Uchiha lawyers had proved victorious.  It probably wouldn't have happened had they not gotten (through bribing, of course) an animal-friendly judge.  It proved to everyone that Fugaku did have a heart as well as a temper, and that he did care for Itachi despite his disappointment.

Itachi had hugged him.  They had been closer since then, thankfully.

That didn't mean that they were all going to start eating solely at vegan restaurants, but it was a start.  One that apparently involved Itachi dressing perhaps a bit too formally for an informal dinner but nice just the same.

“Alright,” said Fugaku, pushing himself up to his feet.  He held out a hand for Mikoto, helping her up as well, and they all made the journey to the front door.  They left the house in pairs, Itachi and Sasuke bumping shoulders and their parents hand-in-hand, a rare show of affection for all of them.  Of course, this probably wouldn't last outside of the house, but hey, it was a nice change.

The Maybach was waiting for them, engine already running, and they all piled in, Fugaku at the wheel and the two brothers in the back.

They ended up eating at a vegan restaurant.  Something about placating Itachi, who had half-heartedly threatened moving out when they had moved from Iwa to Konoha.

Itachi had smiled, a barely noticeable one but a smile just the same.

***

To say that Itachi didn't like Konohagakure was an understatement.

Sure, it was the capital of the Fire Country, and the biggest city in the world as well, so there were a lot of options.  It was easy to blend into the mess with the twenty-five million plus people that inhabited the city, so being noticed as the ex-heir to Uchiha International was low.  There were plenty of options for food and clothing that he could actually wear, the art and musical scene was massive, and yet it was a technological hot-spot that someone like Sasuke would thrive in.

It was fucking beautiful too.  The atmosphere and scenery was jaw-dropping to look at, being a massive metropolis in the middle of a mountainous forest region.  The metropolitan area was filled with gigantic skyscrapers that were elegant and fascinating to look at, whereas the rest of the city was a patchworked piece of art, really. There were buildings all around the city from literally every time period ever, and even the run-down areas had a gentle sort of charm.

It also had a relatively low crime rate considering that it was the biggest city in the world, so there was that.  Much better than Iwa and better than Suna.  Not as good as Taki, but the city was smaller too (and prettier, if one took scenery in regards, due to the waterfalls and canals).

He still wasn't happy about the move, though.  He was _never_ fond of moving, _ever_ , because it meant that his entire life had to be brutally torn to shreds in the upheaval of relocation.  He remembered living in Konoha and having schoolmates, and then throwing a right fit when they had moved after Itachi's sixth birthday.  He remembered leaving Suna when he had been nine, and throwing a right fit because he didn't want to leave his art teacher.  He remembered leaving Taki with a _massive_ fit when he had been twelve, because for chrissakes, it was the most beautiful and inspiring city in the entire world and who would willingly leave it?

Then he remembered leaving Iwa just a few days ago, and he had thrown a fit as well.  His version of a fit anyway, which consisted of silent treatments, sneaking out a _lot_ to get his fill of the city as soon as possible, and rather stilted words with his father for a few weeks.  Anyway, he hadn't really wanted to leave Iwa either.  He had been fairly miserable there, because the city was militaristic in its design and the citizens were total arseholes, but it was still terrible.  Mostly because he had a gym there that he liked and he had already memorised the layout of the city as well as the house they had lived in.

Itachi liked change when it benefited, not when it wrecked his normalcy.

He'd probably come to like Konoha though; honestly, there was no way he _couldn't_ not like Konoha, because the place was brilliant.  He was distantly familiar of it through business trips his father used to drag him to, so it wasn't completely new.  He was aware of the potential, but that didn't make it any easier.  He was also familiar with the steakhouse because his father had been frequenting it since before Itachi had even been born.

Almost as if it was a dream, Itachi could faintly remember sitting in class with the rest of the first years, crying because some little boy had taken his crayons and broke them into pieces.  Maybe that was why he was livid about the move, because he had some repressed memories of being unjustly bullied by his classmates or something.  Honestly, it probably had more to do with the majority of the Uchiha clan living in the city, because Itachi didn't have a good relationship with the rest of his family.  He was a pacifist, a vegan, an artist, and gayer than a bag of rainbows stapled to a leprechaun's cock.  Most of his clan was filled with egotistical meat-eaters that preferred shooting things with hunting rifles or looking down on others that were less than fortunate.

Or shooting daggers with the Senju or Hyūga families, but that was just part of the dynamic.  Three big names in one city didn't help with camaraderie.  It just pissed people off and caused barfights.

The paint was warm beneath his fingertips as he melded the colours together in a textured swirl.  He couldn't really explain the painting, except that it conveyed quite a few emotions that were lurking in his blood.  It made his eyes hurt, but that might've been more the fault of the contacts rather than the chaos of the painting.

Itachi liked painting.  He liked it because in a way, he could relate to it. To most people, paint was bought in one of the standard tubes: red, yellow, blue, black, and white.  Then it could be mixed with other colours to create others: orange, green, purple, pink, baby blue, brown, grey, pale yellow, yellow-green...the possibilities were endless.  People could relate to that, perhaps not consciously like Itachi did, but regardless, it was possible.  People started out basic, and then they were moulded by circumstances like family or peers or work.  They developed themselves into a unique colour that signified their lives, and either became a lighter tint or a darker shade until death.  Itachi figured he was a red, and he liked to think that he was lighter rather than darker.

There were other ways of looking at it too.  From Itachi's perspective, his life was like paint.  He had been one of those basic colours, a red perhaps.  His father had tried to add blackness in his life, because he had attempted to force Itachi into a life he didn't want.  But then he had broken free of that; he had started by secretly adding other colours to his red, and then he had added white when he had finally admitted to his family and himself about his sexuality. However, his father still added blackness despite his work to be something vibrant and new, and then he had finally changed all of that.  Instead of following his birthright, he had thrown out all of his paint, all of his previous conceptions of the life he was duty-bound to live, and he had created his own paint, his own colours from his own imagination.  He had denied the company, had rather abruptly started an entire new path for himself.  He was his own man, his own paint, and that was immensely satisfying.

Then again, he was probably just talking out of his arse, but it sounded good so he couldn't be faulted for that.

Before ever moving to a new home, Fugaku had everyone's respective rooms done, all of them on the top floor since the bottom was common area. His father and mother always had the east end of the obnoxiously large home, and then Sasuke and Itachi inhabited the west end. Furthermore, Sasuke always preferred the front of the house, whereas Itachi was fond of the back, so he could have the backyard view of the grounds.  Consecutively, in every single home, this had been the case, which was a consistency that he appreciated.

His studio had been added by contractors for a nice little sum of catch. The southwest wing that was his designated area had a small living area, a bedroom, a rather luxurious bathroom, and then three rooms that had been revamped for his studio.  Previously they had been a study, a bathroom, and a small den, but together it was a relatively good space for working.

Itachi loved it, to put it bluntly.  His father had known that Itachi wasn't really pleased with the move so he hadn't cut any corners.  It was bribing at its best, because that was the way the Uchiha Fugaku normally showed his love: through absurd amounts of money being spent.  His father was materialistic man, just like most people who had inherited a fortune, because that was normal.  It was much easier to buy love and compliance rather than sitting down and talking it out.

The white-walled space was brilliant though.  There was a massive stainless-steel sink in the corner of the room, and the entire wall to the right of it was storage space in varying degrees.  Supplies, paper types, canvas, brushes, chemicals...everything possibly imaginable that could be used was present in drawers, cabinets, horizontal cubicles, and vertical paper holders.  Then there was a square, multilevel worktable, half of it low enough to sit down comfortably while the other half high enough where he didn't have to stoop nor reach for purchase.  There were two easels in the northwest corner by the doorway, both of them from the old house in Iwa, but one more was in the centre of the room being broken in since it was brand new.  In the northeast corner, there was a nice L-shaped couch, white in colour which would be quick and fun to destroy, and an empty bookshelf next to one end that was ready for art books.  There was a filtration and ventilation system, to keep the room dust, fume, and odour-free, which Itachi could hear through a quiet hum.

Itachi gave it two weeks before it was a disaster area.  He was a neat freak by nature but it was an art studio.  He was allowed liberties.

He sat back on his stool, staring at the vine-like strokes of colour on his canvas.  Not a single millimetre of white was visible through the layers of paint, which was okay by him, because this piece was for him, not for anyone else.  Some works were just done to vent emotion, and the chaotic piece he stared at conveyed that enough for him.

After a few moments, he stood up and spared a glance at his ruined hands.  Then he closed his eyes, took a deep, paint-tinted breath, and then walked blindly towards the sink.  In a few weeks it would be nearly impossible to do such a menial thing, because there would obstacles everywhere, but he made it there then with no accidents.  He quickly but thoroughly washed his hands, even though they were stained beyond recognition regardless due to him making his own paints, and cleaned up the few brushes he had soiled.  It was methodical and thorough, because brushes had been ruined by less, so only whenever they were perfectly clean (albeit stained as well) did he stop.

He exited his studio into a small hallway.  If he was to continue forwards, he would hit a guest bedroom before reaching Sasuke's area of the house.  Itachi paused for a moment before opening the door to his bedroom directly to the right, watching as down the hallway an erratic flashing of lights seeped through the cracks of a doorway.  Figured that Sasuke would finally break into all of his electronics in the dead of night. Itachi glanced half-heartedly at his watch and noted the time being a little after one in the morning, and then entered his room.

His room would have to be fiddled with a lot before he'd be happy with it.  The walls were, predictably, white with a red border through the middle, but that was easily changed with a bit of paint.  He would have to buy wall paint, because using his natural paints would do absolutely nothing to cover it evenly, but there were animal-friendly ones out there.  Maybe he'd go grey this time, or perhaps a soft green.  His last room had been a pale yellow, which had actually been nice, but that had took careful planning on designing the room for it to work around the colour.

He turned to his right to his adjoining bathroom, quickly taking off all his clothes and gently putting them inside a plastic lined hamper.  He'd wash them in the morning, or attempt to at least, because there was a good chance they were ruined anyway.  He was a rather messy painter in contrast to his usual anal disposition on cleanliness.  He took a lot of pride in being a perfectionist with everything he did, even if it was something simple like making his bed, but when it came to being clean and precise with his paint, he was hopeless.

He turned on the shower, guessing at temperature since he wasn't used to the handle yet, and took the time to take out his contacts.  Like a good majority of the Uchiha, eyesight was something not expected but instead coveted, especially for some.  Itachi's eyes themselves were rather fucking terrible.  One eye was far-sighted, the other near-sighted, and both had astigmatisms.  His father had looked into refractive surgery, and had gotten LASIK done on himself with decent results, but even an absurd amount of money couldn't convince a surgeon to operate on someone under eighteen.  Besides, Itachi had gotten his eyes looked at, and apparently his astigmatism was too bad for the possibility of full correction.

He didn't exactly _need_ perfect vision.  He didn't even mind glasses, although he was mildly adverse to contacts.

When his world had faded into a blurry, disorienting visual, he toed his way toward the shower and stuck a hand inside, cringing when the water was on the cold side of lukewarm.  Squinting, he adjusted the temperature until steam billowed, and then gingerly stepped in.  The water stung on his body, and he'd be a pink lobster when he (eventually) got out, but as it was, he just sighed in comfort and let the stream of water rush over him.

He quite liked taking showers. It was a good time to relax and think, and he took advantage of it. Although considering the fact that he was a painter, he was used to taking at least two a day.  One in the morning, and one after covering himself with paint or working out.  He liked being clean as well, so he took a lot of time making sure that he was.  Besides, his hair took forever to wash, as it was so long and usually had paint caked in the strands.  Due to some of the paints staining, mostly with the reds and blues he occasionally made with berries, he had to spend extra time on the skin dyed by them.  He didn't even want to imagine what his hair would look like if it had been a colour other than dark brownish-black — he'd probably be a terrible mess to look at, with multicoloured hair.

He started his ritual of cleaning said hair while his thoughts wandered.  They had a week to settle into Konoha before he would have to start school.  Since the year had already started, he'd stand out even more than he would as a slightly-known face.  Sasuke would thrive in that, even though he'd deny it like mad.  Itachi's younger brother liked attention in his own dickish way, and Itachi could think that with utmost affection. He'd make friends that he would refuse to call friends in public rather quickly, as he always did.

He'd probably have fifty potential girlfriends within a week.  Not that he'd do anything with them, because Sasuke not only had standards but he also was rather wary of giving out his affections scrupulously.  Sasuke didn't do things like that easily or without thought, much like Itachi in that regard.  It was for different reasons, yes, but neither one of them dated on a whim.  That was probably a good attribute on both their parts, considering that their father was a very powerful man who was consistently in business magazines, and as his two children (with Sasuke being the next CEO and owner of UI), they were expected to do the name justice.  Smearing the Uchiha family with drugs, alcohol, partying, and lots of sex wasn't in their best interests.

Simply put, Sasuke didn't have a lot of relationships because he wanted to make sure that women weren't dating him for money and popularity, and unfortunately a lot of people tried to do just that.  He also didn't want to do anything stupid that would warrant interference with Fugaku or would disappoint the family, Itachi included (not that there was much Sasuke _could_ do that would make Itachi disappointed...he loved the kid, no matter what he did).

In Itachi's case, he also was wary of the fact that people were out for fame and money, but for the most part, he was just scared.  He'd never admit it out loud, but he was.  He hadn't really been in a relationship before, because he was too introverted perhaps, but mostly he was scared of investing that much into a person only to be crushed and left to suffer.  Maybe that was rather pessimistic of him, but he couldn't be blamed on what he had seen with his own eyes.  Even in mature relationships, something always and without fail got in the way.  Relationships — love, really — just caused pain and mistrust, even if the majority of said relationship was generally happy and full of sex.

There was so much to lose and nothing to gain in his perspective.  The idea of laying on a balcony in some beautiful, remote beach town, nursing a cup of good coffee with a cultured, handsome young man was romantic and fanciful, but that also wouldn't be realistic to envision.  Letting someone in to the point where words weren't necessary was simply terrifying.  There was nothing particularly shameful or secretive in his closet, and certainly no skeletons or misplaced fears about his sexuality, but he just didn't want that.  He didn't want that because eventually that cultured, handsome young man would turn on him.  Cheating, gambling, spending all of Itachi's inheritance, growing distant or even bored, or something he couldn't even logically fathom in his inexperience in the cruelty of human beings...he simply and unmitigatedly did _not_ want that.  He did not _need_ that.

He was going to die an old maid with twelve cats and a house full of pastels.  Or whatever the masculine form of that was.

After nearly an hour in the steaming hot water, fully clean and disorientated due to the heat, he finally exited the shower and headed to bed without drying his hair.

Well, after putting on pyjamas. There was no telling when Sasuke, or worse his _parents_ , would barge in without warning.  It had happened before, and it would probably continue until he left for art school or to laze about on a beach somewhere, alone with his twelve cats and pastels.

He was asleep the second his wet head hit the pillow.


	2. Bright Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Two  
 _Bright Colours  
_ -  
“The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.”  
 _Lord Byron_

  

He met the weirdo at a shop downtown, while searching for anything worth playing.

He was a bit hard to miss, considering how _loud_ he was, but Sasuke found himself rather irritated by _what_ he was saying at not at the obnoxious decibel he was bellowing it in.

“ _Halo_ is the best game ever, out of _any_ game ever.  The gameplay is great, the graphics are really brilliant, and the storyline is awesome even though I prefer to play slayer. Online is so much fun too.  The weapons are boss, the characters are badarse, and I love playing every single one of them.  Can anyone even _name_ a game as cool?”

He had been going for a while, without much enthusiasm from his friends. They seemed much more interested in looking at merch instead of enabling.  Therefore Sasuke, who had discreetly been listening in, decided to finally interject.  “Seriously?  Halo's a shit game.  If you want to prove that you have half a brain, play something that's not boring and repetitive.  As for examples, I can think of so many first-person shooters that blow that game out of the water.  The TimeSplitters series is my personal favourite, but Counter Strike: Source and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare are fucking awesome.”

Everyone stared at him for a moment before the blond did this amusing, full-body shudder.  “Are you _kidding?_ Call of Duty has fail written all over it, and who in the hell still plays TimeSplitters?  I admit that CSS is awesome, but those others are just jokes.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to argue but a pink haired girl to his left interjected absently, “I think you're both crazy.  Bioshock 2 and the Gears of War are loads better.”  She hadn't even looked up, instead half-heartedly picking up a Star Wars game and reading the back.

“Okay, that's insane.  I understand Gears of War, especially 3, but _Bioshock_?” said Sasuke, crossing his arms.  “Infinite is only half-shoddy but the others were total crap.”

“What, are you all going to say that you like Battlefield 3 now?” asked a dark headed boy in a lazy drone.  He looked as if he was sleepwalking, all groggy and half-aware, with his messy, pineapple-like hair sticking straight up at an awkward angle.

“Absolutely not,” huffed Sasuke.

Simultaneously, the blond said loudly, “Hell no!”

The pink haired girl finally looked up, appraising Sasuke once before turning back to the shelf.  “At least you both have some taste then.  Battlefield 3 was the most disappointing, over-hyped game I've ever seen.”

“Clearly you haven't been in a GameStop during Halo releases,” Sasuke said with a smirk in the blond's direction.  “And clearly you've never played the game either.  _That_ was the most disappointing, over-hyped game ever invented, and unfortunately every Halo game is like that.”

“What are you _saying_?!” exclaimed the blond, earning a backhanded smack to the arm by the pink haired girl.

“Keep your voice down or I will end you, Naruto,” she said irritably, and then grabbed a copy of Killzone 2, heading to the checkout counter.

Rubbing his reddened bicep with a grimace, the blond said in a softer voice (but not by much), “What _are_ you saying?  Everything about that game is state-of-the-art.  What can you _not_ like about it?”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, grabbing the Skyrim Official Game Guide off a shelf and flipping through it.  As he found a page on the Dark Brotherhood, he replied, “Where do I start?  The only thing the game has going for it is Live on Xbox.  Otherwise, I hate everything about it.  The controls and gameplay is generic and most of all dated.  Every character looks the same unless you want a flaming head or a purple suit instead of a green suit.  The storyline is only so-so and it's practically repeated in every single game.  The multi-player is, I do admit, not half bad, but every single map is the same no matter what you're playing.  The weapons are boring and the mods and patches aren't any fun.  The new add-ons like jet-packs and all that crap is stupid and makes the game annoying.  Not only that but it's a rip-off of Starsiege Tribes, and not even a good one.  Besides, everyone knows that Master Chief is a paedo.”

The pineapple headed boy laughed.

Naruto looked properly scandalised, and then said in a bewildered voice, “Clearly we do not play the same game.  You probably don't like it because you suck at it anyway.”

Sasuke snorted.  “Whatever, loser.  I could kick your arse in Reach any day.”

Naruto's big blue eyes narrowed comically.  “Bring it on, bastard.  I'll show you how Halo is really played by a master, and then I'll laugh in your face!”

The pink haired girl walked up, a bag in hand, and said in a chipper voice, “I'm Haruno Sakura.  Welcome to our mismatched little group of nerds and geeks.”  She pushed out a dainty little hand with a wide grin, and Sasuke noticed that her skin was pale and her fingernails were painted lime green.

With a brief hesitation, he took it and squeezed, but she just squeezed back, both of them happily trying to break each other's fingers. When they finally let go, Sasuke tried not to flex his hand to work out the stiffness and simply began walking towards the checkout counter himself.  He was followed, naturally, by his new acquaintances, and he stepped in line with the three beside him.

“Now _that_ is a game we can all agree on,” Naruto said, snickering.  “Skyrim is boss.  I'm Namikaze Naruto, by the way!”

Sasuke fought the urge to roll his eyes and answered, “I liked Oblivion better, but yeah, Skyrim is a great game.  And my name is Sasuke.”

“This is Nara Shikamaru,” added Sakura helpfully, prodding Shikamaru with a lime green fingernail. “You should come to the Café with us, because it's an awesome place with ramen and drinks and video game consoles for tournaments.  We could get our Halo match on and declare a winner,” said Naruto, bumping Sasuke's shoulder.  He was dressed obnoxiously, with his bright orange shirt, black zip-off cargo trousers, and bulky orange shoes. Both of his arms were utterly riddled with bracelets off all shapes, sizes, and colours, not matching in the slightest.  His sun-kissed skin, his wild blond hair that went everywhere, his happy cerulean eyes, the shiny silver stud in his left nostril, and the whisker-like scars on his cheeks somehow fit his manner of dress, even though it was ridiculous just the same, and Sasuke almost wanted to shield his eyes from the brightness.

In contrast was Shikamaru, who was dressed in dark colours.  His charcoal grey shorts were baggy and precariously hanging from his thin hips, and a green shirt with the Sony emblem did nothing to hide that fact.  His black flip-flops were too big for his feet and looked as if they were going to disintegrate right off into the floor. Honestly, he looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and put on the first shoes he had come across, which was probably the case.  He was once again seemingly asleep right-side-up, regardless of the fact that Sasuke knew it was logically impossible to do so.

Sakura, on the other hand, was a mixture of the two.  Her long pink hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a few tendrils falling around her face. She was clad in a long, but still formfitting v-necked shirt that was a cool purple, and a pair of formfitting lemon yellow shorts peeked out at the bottom, proving that she had a bit of modesty.  The big, white combat boots came up past her ankles, the tops folding down in a mess of pink laces.  They accented her rather nice legs, but he didn't focus on that, because he had manners, just like he chose to focus on the Mario cloth band she had on her wrist rather than the Invader Zim necklace that was displayed in prominence.

No one could ever say that he didn't have class.  He'd glance her over when she wasn't looking in his general direction if not at him.

“Firstly,” drawled Sasuke, moving forward in the line, “I don't know you.  For all I know you and your friends are going to lead me into an alley and are planning on nicking all my money.”  He nodded at the sales clerk when he rattled off the price, dug in his messenger bag for his wallet, and pulled out a credit card as Naruto spluttered with indignation.  He continued, “Not that there's really anything you could steal.  Sure, my bag is expensive, but I'm not wearing jewellery and I don't have any cash, so there's nothing you can gain unless you take my card and risk going to jail for a decade.  Then again, you haven't any idea if I'm lying to you or not, so you could still take the chance, but I do warn you that I am trained in self-defence and I could probably have you assassinated.”

Then Sasuke paused, looked at Naruto, blinked, and said, “Wait, did you say your name was _Namikaze_ Naruto?  As in the Prime Minister's kid?”

Naruto pouted.  “Yeah, and you're the heir to the Uchiha fortune.  You don't see me pointing it out though.”

Sasuke smirked lightly.  “Well, thank God you aren't a woman.  If you were, I'd probably have to marry you.  Now where is this Café you guys were talking about?”

Sakura and Shikamaru started snorting at Naruto's outraged reaction.  Sasuke led the way out the store, taking in a deep breath of hot, humid air before turning back to his new companions.  He wasn't entirely sold on the Prime Minister's son yet, mostly because he was blubbering about something or another, but he hadn't made a concrete opinion yet.  His eyes and countenance seemed genuine, but he had met actors just as convincing.  He wasn't sold on _any_ of them yet to tell the truth, but a lot of their worth would depend on how good they were at Super Smash Brothers.

And whether or not Naruto was a pompous, spoilt brat due to upbringing. The two others could've been his lackeys for all he knew.

A gaming café was a neutral zone, so he'd be safe at least, and he'd uncover yet another ideal spot to haunt while in Konoha if it was any good.

All in due time.

***

Sasuke came home from his outing in rather good spirits, Itachi noted.

He had been doing the logical thing on his first full day in the new house, which was putting together his room and studio in an organised, perfectly precise way.  He liked his personal areas exactly how he wanted it, and it would probably take him two more days to unpack and set everything up.  It was going well, he supposed, because the entire room was painted a slate, that perfect blend of grey and blue, which brought out the dark wooden trim and the white carpet.  The next day, after it was dry and aired out, he would start really unpacking and putting it together.

Well, hopefully it would be aired out.  He didn't want to get high from all the fumes, because primer and canned paint was hell to work with without getting woozy.

He was absently lounging in one of the downstairs dens with a book when Sasuke passed the open doorway, humming under his breath.  The footsteps stopped, a moment passed, and then his younger brother backtracked into the room.  He dropped his leather messenger bag with a dull thunk on the floor and then flopped rather ungracefully onto one of the cream couches.  After a long sigh of relaxation — which was entirely justified, since the furniture was rather comfortable — Sasuke asked, “I don't suppose you set up _my_ room, did you?”

Itachi turned back to his book, an excellent novel by Anne Rice called _Taltos_ , and answered, “I don't love you that much.”

Sasuke snorted.  For a while, they fell into an easy silence.  Itachi, while reading, could hear Sasuke's even breathing.  He had been gone since early, being a morning person, and would probably leave the unpacking for a later date.  Sasuke wasn't a messy person by any means, but that didn't mean he was very organised either.  Itachi prided himself on being thorough and a perfectionist, always making sure everything in his life was planned and executed without fault, but Sasuke was the opposite.  He thought before he acted for the _most_ part, but Sasuke had more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants approach.  He was quick to temper and sometimes acted out of anger or panic, whereas Itachi just...didn't.

Out of the blue, Sasuke said groggily, “I made new friends today.”

“Did you?” asked Itachi absently, turning a page.

“Yeah,” replied Sasuke, shifting a bit.  “Met them in a game shop.  Got into a bit of a spiff about Halo, which started it all.  One of them was Namikaze Naruto.”

Itachi looked up at that.  “Namikaze Minato's son?”

Sasuke grinned tiredly.  “Yeah.  He's an obnoxious weirdo, to be sure, but he's not what I expected.  Most of those well-known, politically raised kids are total fucknuts, you know?  I mean, I know I'm a bit of an arsehole sometimes and you have your snobbish moments too, but for the most part we grew up rather okay.  To see another somewhat normal kid, especially an only child, that grew up in an equally bright spotlight like we did is just...”

“Rare,” Itachi finished, refraining from mentioning Sasuke's language because the kid was practically unconscious.

“Exactly,” said Sasuke, opening his eyes languidly.  Tilting his head backwards, he glanced at Itachi upside down and said, “You want to hear about them?”

Itachi didn't, not really, but he said, “Of course.”

So Sasuke closed his eyes and started talking.  “Naruto's a nut.  He's loud, he's abrasive, he has no sense of personal boundaries, and he smiles too much.  I don't trust people who smile too much.  But he's not that bad.  He's pretty good at video games, and he nearly kicked my arse in Halo.  _Nearly._   He's pretty smart in his own way I guess.  You'll meet him when we start school, because he's going to the same school as we are.  Then there's Shikamaru, and he's the laziest motherfucker I've ever met—”

“Language,” admonished Itachi finally, without much bite regardless.  He was generally okay with swearing, even from Sasuke, but there were some words he didn't tolerate.  'Fuck' and its various usages was one of them.

“Whatever,” Sasuke conceded.  “Anyway, Shikamaru is the laziest guy I've ever met.  He's a brilliant gamer though, all strategic and smart and shit.  If he can get up the drive to even wake up for longer than two seconds to play, he is an asset to the extreme.  Then there's Shino — he's pretty good, but I don't think I heard him speak.  He was excellent at TimeSplitters, so they kept putting him on whatever team I wasn't on, to balance it out.  Kiba's a lot like Naruto, all obnoxious and loud, and his style is the same too.  They both rush into things without really coming up with strategy, mostly just power types.  Hmm, who else?  There's Chōji, who I swear eats _all the time_ , and it's really kinda gross.  His voice is annoying too, and he's not exactly that good at FPS games.  Hinata is this really quiet girl who is _seriously_ screwed up in the head, because it's obvious to everyone _but_ Naruto that she's pretty much hopelessly in love with him.”

“Hyūga Hinata, the heiress of the Hyūga legacy?” questioned Itachi.

“Yeah,” said Sasuke.  “I made a comment to Naruto that I was lucky he wasn't a girl, because of how it goes.  Y'know, not exactly arranged marriages, but the families pushing to make it happen.  But then I met Hinata and the only thing running through my mind was 'oh shit, Mother and Hinata's mum are going to get all friendly and try to shove us into liking each other.'”

“Hinata's mother is dead,” said Itachi quietly.  “I don't know why, but Mother mentioned it in passing.  Mother went to school with her here in Konoha, before either of us were even born.  I don't think you have to worry about being tied with a Hyūga though.  Father would never allow it.”

Sasuke huffed. “Yeah, I know.  Can you imagine our two clans meshing together after years of bitter animosity?  I'd probably be murdered in my sleep.  Hinata is rather nice looking though.”

“Our notoriously bad eyesight might be cancelled out by their famously good eyesight,” Itachi joked dryly, earning a snicker from his brother.  With a small, barely noticeable smile, he continued thoughtfully, “And if you did decide to date a Hyūga, I doubt that Father would push that strongly against it.  He wouldn't be pleased, but he'd come around. You could always threaten to marry into Senju.  He'd warm to the idea very quickly then.”

“I'd rather not get into a verbal deathmatch spanning over months, if not years, just for one girl.  I'm looking forward to bossing people around after I take over UI, thanks.  Besides, this conversation is moot, because if Naruto gets his head out of his arse, he'll finally get laid and it'll be happily ever after.  Well, unless Sakura decides that she's in love with him or something, which will mean that Hinata will get her heart broken until they break up.  Then Naruto will fall into her arms and _then_ it'll be a sappy happily ever after.”

Itachi wanted to roll his eyes, but didn't because that was unbecoming.  “You gossip like a woman, Uchiha Sasuke.  You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“And in some other life, you're probably a mass-murdering criminal who eats meat,” Sasuke shot back, pushing himself up so he could look Itachi in his bespectacled eyes.  “Regardless, don't tell anyone that.  I have a reputation to maintain outside of this brotherly relationship, after all.”

Itachi fought the urge to throw his book at Sasuke's smirking face.  There was nothing wrong with the occasionally family spat, but violence was never the answer.

Usually.

“Who's Sakura?” he asked, changing the subject before he ended up bringing up Sasuke's horrid attempts to look cool while internally being a nerdy attention-seeker.

Sasuke's eyes flickered to the ceiling and he said, “Oh, this pink haired girl that's not really good at anything but RPGs.”  Itachi gave Sasuke a look, and his brother fidgeted under his gaze.  With a grumpy frown, he added, “Okay, fine, she's one of the best skateboarders I've ever seen in my life.  She's sharp and has a bit of an attitude.  She hits Naruto quite a lot, and hard too, so that's a definite plus.” He paused, and then said sheepishly, “She also has really nice legs.”

Itachi _did_ roll his eyes then, despite how unbecoming it was.

“Hey, you'd like her. _She's colourful.  And I think a lot of people have nice legs, but that doesn't mean there's anything to it.”  Sasuke sounded genuine, and he was probably right —_ nothing would probably come from it.  Regardless, it was Itachi's brotherly duty to tease; he didn't have a choice in the matter.

He loved his brother more than life itself, and he'd do anything for him if he asked.  He'd even give up art or his family if he had to, and those things were things he relied on for stability.  He'd give it up for Sasuke though, because despite the brat being a pain in the arse, he was still Itachi's everything.

Then Itachi mentally smacked himself for becoming maudlin.  He was going to have to work on that.  At least he wasn't being outwardly with his emotions, because then it would destroy his impeccable self-control on said emotions.  It was easier to hide within the masses if he didn't stand out, and he didn't like people knowing what he was thinking anyway.  It always gave other people blackmail material, and he was a private person to top it all off.

If anyone was to listen to his thoughts, they probably would think he was mental.  He didn't act the way he thought, that was for sure.  He liked it that way, made people overestimate him, because inside he was just a normal teenager.  He didn't have to like it, but it was true.

After the slight hesitation resulting from his own thoughts, he said, “Just because someone wears colourful clothing doesn't mean that I'm going to like that person.  If that were true, I'd like Shisui's mother...or Lady Gaga.”

Sasuke laughed, one of those full laughs that he didn't let out very often, and even then only with close friends or family.  “Itachi, you might not be a stereotype, and you might not show it, but you _are_ as straight as a sparkly rainbow.  It's part of your genetic DNA to like Lady Gaga, and since you're a guy, it's also in your genetic DNA to love Madonna.”

Itachi gave in and threw his book at Sasuke's head, even though he knew his brother was joking.

It flew in a wide arc of fluttering pages, and if Sasuke hadn't rolled off the couch to the ground it would've hit its mark.  Itachi had rather good aim, even with his less dominant right hand, and he allowed himself a small smirk.  Sasuke was glaring at him good-naturedly from the floor, his ears a bit pink at the tips, and he grabbed the book, preparing to chuck it right back.

Thankfully, Mikoto stepped past the door and said lightly, “I heard a loud bang.  Is everything okay in here?”  Her expression was still serene and a small smile graced her lips, but there was a glint of warning in her warm brown eyes.  She looked like a feminine version of Sasuke, but her disposition was more like Itachi.  She hid what she was thinking rather well, better than Itachi himself sometimes, but she loved unconditionally.  Itachi didn't, except for Sasuke, because people were so prone to _crushing_ it unconditionally.

Sasuke was a dominating, quick to temper, stubborn personality just like one Uchiha Fugaku and didn't bother to hide it.

Sasuke lowered the book, his glare dying off in the face of their mother, but when she asked them to follow her, he mouthed, ' _Payback is a bitch, Itachi_ '.  He gave Itachi back the book though, which Itachi immediately started inspecting for damage.  Books weren't supposed to be thrown at heads, after all, even if they weren't very good and this one was good so he double-checked just in case.

They followed Mikoto to the dining room, where their father was sitting down, a pair of reading glasses on his nose and paperwork scattered about.  Apparently the disorganised chaos made sense to Fugaku because he was manoeuvring through it all quickly, checking boxes and making notes when he needed.

Sasuke breathed out into Itachi's ear, “You'd think that working in a technologically-based company would encourage him to use a computer.”

Itachi didn't respond, but in the back of his mind he disagreed.  It was easier to plan and create with a sheet of clean paper and imagination.  In business, rough drafts were for paper; final drafts were for Photoshop and Microsoft Word (which Sasuke would probably disagree with, because Itachi had once listened to a two-hour long lecture on why Windows was evil and Linux was a gift from the cosmos).

Eventually, Fugaku stopped and leant back in his chair, crossing his arms.  In his usual smooth but demanding tone, he said, “We've been invited to a fund-raiser on Wednesday and I would like you all to go.” Despite the tone, Itachi knew that they didn't necessarily _have_ to go if they didn't want to.  His father always sounded stern and commanding, and it didn't mean that he was threatening.  If Fugaku threatened, one _knew_ it.

His father wasn't threatening this time, so Itachi wasn't going to go. He disliked dressing like a posh spanner, and hours spent avoiding girls and boring conversation when he could be painting seemed like a terrible way to spend a Wednesday.

“What kind of fund-raiser?” he asked after a small hesitation.

“A political one,” said Fugaku, uncrossing his arms so he could pull off his glasses.  He beckoned at the chairs of the dining room table, so Itachi and Sasuke both sat down next to each other, adjacent to their father.  Itachi briefly glanced at a small pile of papers in front of his seat, and then looked away, because he had no desire to read about a self-mutating algorithm.

Sasuke said, “Political parties are always a bore.  Who is it for?”

Fugaku gave Sasuke a small smile.  “Any formal party is terribly dreadful, but unfortunately I don't have a choice.  Nor will you when you eventually rise through the ranks and take over the company.  As it stands, this one might not be as bad, considering that the Prime Minister has a bit of a reputation for not exactly following social normality.”

Sasuke grinned.  “I'm so there.”  Then he glanced over at Itachi and gave him that irritating, manipulative puppy-dog look in a silent plea.

Itachi mentally groaned but outwardly kept stoic.

Fugaku's smile fell into the more common frown.  “You were rather quick to decide.”

“Eh, met his son today while I was out,” explained Sasuke, still staring at Itachi.  “I'd like to further rub my victorious win in his face for as long as I can milk it Father.  What's the dress?”

“Formal, like is customary.  I've made an appointment with a fitter in the city tonight, so we can have our suits tailored, but I do need to know if you're going Itachi.”  Fugaku looked at him, raising an eyebrow in question, and after Sasuke increased the level of _pity me and don't make me go alone_ in his eyes, Itachi nodded faintly. Fugaku nodded back in return, slipped on his readers yet again, and then said, “Very well.  We'll leave in a few hours for fittings. Find a place you'd like to eat, Sasuke; it's your turn to choose.”

“Also Sasuke, you should get your room together.  You're starting school soon, and you make friends quickly,” called out Mikoto gently, eyes closing with a soft smile, causing Sasuke to groan his affirmative.

“God, there are so many things I could do instead of doing my room.  It's not like they'd actually go in there if I _did_ bring someone over.  We'd stay in the game room the entire time,” mumbled Sasuke when they were out of earshot.  “And I don't really make friends easily, really.  I just look for new people to annihilate and then I laugh to myself when I'm alone in the privacy of my own bedroom.”  Sasuke huffed and then said, “If you do it for me, I'd love you forever.”

Itachi took a few deep breaths, focussing on not tripping on the stairs, before he replied, “Sasuke, I'm already suffering through a formal fund-raiser because I tolerate you.”

“No, you're coming with me because I don't want to suffer through it alone and you showed pity on my plight.”  Sasuke gave him an innocent look that Itachi didn't buy in the slightest and said, “You're doing it because you are a kind, _wonderful_ brother who loves me enough to spare me the horror of setting up my room.”

Itachi narrowed his eyes slightly behind his square-framed glasses.

Sasuke caught the look and added, “I'll pick a vegan restaurant tonight if you do it.”

Itachi wanted to reach out and smack his brother with the book, hard enough to daze the kid for being so insufferably insistent, but he didn't. He had impeccable self-control.  “No.  Christ, Sasuke, if the rest of the world was to see how you act around me, they'd have a heart attack.”

“You still act like a lifeless automaton, yourself, so nothing new there,” Sasuke said irritably.  “When was the last time you laughed?  Or smiled?  Not one of those not-there smiles like you pull all the time but, like, _really_ smiled?”

“Smiling makes my face hurt,” answered Itachi honestly, and then made a right towards his bedroom. 

“It wouldn't hurt if you had someone to smile about,” said Sasuke in unnecessarily, a comment which Itachi obviously ignored.  He disappeared into his bedroom, shut the door gently, and then because rummaging around, finding something to wear that his father would approve of on an outing.  When he exited his room ten minutes later, still blinking rapidly so his contacts would settle, he figured that he'd find some way to make Sasuke pay him back for the fund-raiser. Probably something terrible, like cleaning all of his paintbrushes for him.  He'd have stained hands for days.

He'd have to muse on it while getting poked and prodded by women taking his measurements.  He had to focus on something besides being inspected like a pony on display.

***

Sasuke was not pleased.

Fifteen or not, being short was not funny.  What was even worse was that he probably wouldn't get much taller.  If he ended up surpassing his father in height, he'd die from shock.  Well, not literally, but it would've been a miracle.  His father and older brother were exactly the same height, a measly five-foot-seven, and his mother was just _barely_ shorter than Sasuke.

He hated being short.

It could've been worse, though.  That blond-headed idiot was shorter than he was.

They were in the Maybach, on their way to the new house.  The fitting had taken longer than expected, because it had taken Itachi forever to get finished.  Sasuke had gotten lucky and had gotten a pair of rather pretty middle-aged women who were professional and fast. Fugaku had gotten a similar pair who had been even faster.  Itachi, on the other hand, had gotten one professional woman in her late twenties and a middle-aged man.  The woman had been tolerable and hadn't spoken much.  The man, on the other hand, had chatted and spent too much time on Itachi's measurements.

In other words, he had _not_ been professional.

Sasuke dreaded to think of what his brother would make him do to pay him back.  Then again, Sasuke figured he deserved it — Itachi didn't like big social gatherings, especially formal ones, and he had been groped and annoyed during a fitting for a suit that was bound to be uncomfortable.

Sasuke loved his brother, really.

He glanced to his right, watching the street-lights brighten and then fade his brother's face.  Not for the first time, Sasuke abstractly noticed how similar and yet different they looked.  They both had coinciding genetically dominant Uchiha features: the same ebony-brown eyes, the same dark hair, the same even skin tone, the same fine bone structure, the same general body types.  There was no denying that they were brothers, or at least related — both of them were classic Uchiha, like all Uchiha were.

There were subtle, but noticeable differences though.  Itachi's eyes were large like Sasuke's,  but more narrow, and the ebony-brown was softer due to his almost feminine eyelashes.  Itachi's hair was a soft black like their father, whereas Sasuke had inherited their mother's intense bluish-black colour instead.  His skin was darker as well, a golden tan instead of Sasuke's ivory skin.  They were both on the shorter side of average (although he hadn't given up his flimsy hope of growing taller than both his father and Itachi), but while Sasuke was all long limbs and bad posture, Itachi was simply elegance and _good_ posture.

In a way, despite how much it irked Sasuke to admit it, and despite how it completely defied everything people thought about them, Itachi _was_ much more masculine than Sasuke.  Perhaps it had to do with the two-year age gap between them, due to maturity and the sort, but Sasuke didn't really believe that.  Itachi's jawline was stronger than Sasuke's, his lips thinner and more shapely, and his face just _sharper_.  The deep lines cutting down his cheeks also made him look different and more masculine, not as...well, _pretty_ as Sasuke, and the dark circles around his eyes from not sleeping well accented this imperfection.

Sasuke wasn't feminine by any means, and he wasn't trying to convince himself of anything that wasn't true either, but it _was_ a bit ironic that his brother appeared more masculine than he himself did. And honestly, Sasuke didn't even really mind; no one had ever called him girly or the sort, not even in Iwa, and they had all been complete clusterfucks.  Even if they did, it wouldn't have bugged him.  They probably just wanted to feel better about themselves.

He was forced to pull himself away from his thoughts when Itachi finally looked over at him.  His brother blinked lethargically, his eyelashes casting long shadows across his narrow cheeks from the street-lights. His eyes were a bit glazed over, distant almost, and Sasuke wondered vaguely if he had taken out his contacts or if he was just that tired.  Sasuke knew he hadn't been sleeping, because Sasuke had heard him.  Their living quarters were somewhat distant due to the massive house they were living in, but Itachi liked listening to music while painting.  He also had a tendency to throw things at walls for inspiration or something, like paint containers and even entire easels.  Things like that were noisy, even if Itachi didn't mean for them to be.

They pulled into the huge half-circle of a driveway they had after passing the gates, and when they stopped, Sasuke rushed out of the car.  He went around the boot of the vehicle and put an arm around Itachi's waist, frowning slightly at how tiny he was — he wasn't _skinny_ , but he _was_ thin.  He _needed_ a big, juicy steak with a side of steamed vegetables and rice to fatten him up, put a bit of weight on him.  There was nothing wrong with a bit of meat on his brother's bones, literally and figuratively.

He was probably overreacting, really, about everything, but he cared a lot for his brother.  Even if he didn't exactly show it to anyone except for Itachi when they were alone.  He knew he was a bit justified for his overprotective nature, because they had nearly lost him after he'd gotten sick, but if _Sasuke_ had been the one in Itachi's position, Itachi would've been livid.  Itachi was better, healthy and still as impassively guarded like usual, so being constantly sappy and protective was probably irritating.  If only Sasuke _actually_ knew what Itachi was thinking...

“Let's get you to bed, you sad-looking thing,” said Sasuke without much bite.

Itachi just wrapped his arm around Sasuke's shoulders in reply.


	3. Porcelain and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Three  
 _Porcelain and White  
_ -  
“You don't have to be straight to be in the military; you just have to be able to shoot straight.”  
 _Barry Goldwater_

 

“I have decided that I wish it was Monday.”

Itachi just looked at him, that stare that didn't give away what he was thinking and yet spoke volumes.  His words, when they were spoken, were clear though: “Why in the world would you want that?”

“Well,” Sasuke said, scratching an itch behind the collar of his stiff dress shirt, “if it was Monday, we'd be able to actually do something somewhat productive.  Not to mention _socialise._   Instead, we're getting ready for some lame party that neither one of us wants to go to.”

Itachi's long, nimble fingers quickly and efficiently tied Sasuke's tie for him, since Sasuke was rather hopeless at doing it himself.  It always came out crooked when he did it, and he wasn't entirely sure why.  He was normally good at _everything_ if he worked hard enough at it, so...

He ended that train of thought before he got frustrated at himself.

“I thought you wanted to go,” said Itachi quietly, eventually turning away so he could do his own tie in the mirror.

“I changed my mind,” Sasuke grumbled.  “Originally I thought that I'd be there, eat dinner and converse with stuffy old people, and then I could escape with Naruto and whoever else from his group was invited.  We could screw around while they did all of the boring speeches, and then whenever it was time to go, we could head back and say our goodbyes to more stuffy old people.”

“That's ageist,” Itachi said absently, concentrating on straightening his own impeccably done tie.  Instead of waiting for Sasuke to call him out for being ridiculous (ageist?  _Really_...), he said, “You know that escaping with your not-friends is clearly impossible. Father would never allow it, and while the Prime Minister might be famous for his lack of social decorum, I doubt he would allow it either.  Clan heads have reputations to maintain, and mainstream political players are even more picky about appearances.” “Uh, _yeah_ , which is why I said that I didn't want to go now,” replied Sasuke in a _duh_ tone.  “And they aren't my friends.”

Itachi visibly bit the inside of his cheek, smoothing out his suit with lightly stained hands, and then said, “That's why I said not-friends.”

“I know what you meant, prick.”

They were both in Itachi's bathroom, getting ready for the fund-raiser that neither one wanted to go to.  Sasuke glanced at himself in Itachi's floor-length mirror, where his attached closet met his bathroom, and sniffed.  His navy blue suit was solid and smooth, his collared dress shirt a pale baby blue, and his black and silver striped tie was perfectly centred and set with a tie clip.  Last thing he needed was for his tie to flop around in the wind.

Itachi was wearing a dark grey three-piece with a purple tie.  Only Itachi could pull off something ridiculous and look classy doing it.  Then again, Sasuke wasn't the biggest fan of purple, so he was probably biased.

Then, out of nowhere, Itachi leant forward and stuck a finger in his right eyeball, moving the contact around as if it was uncomfortable (Itachi was _always_ messing with his contacts like that, though, and it was no secret that he despised them with a passion).  Sasuke decided to take his leave then, giving Itachi a half-hearted goodbye as he walked out.  He gave a glance to Itachi's perfectly organised room, grimacing to himself at the idea of doing his own, and then pretty much sauntered out into the hallway.

He made his way downstairs, where his father was talking loudly on his cell phone about a business deal.  His mother, notorious for taking _forever_ to get ready, was nowhere to be found, not that he had expected anything different.  He got the concept of women taking longer to fancy themselves up, with the make-up and hair and fancy dresses, and he definitely pitied women for it.  It took Sasuke himself maybe thirty minutes to get ready, shower and oral hygiene included.  His father took about the same amount of time, and Itachi...well, he spent more time getting rid of invisible wrinkles and messing with the dreaded contacts than he did getting ready.

With the fact that his hair was ridiculously long and took forever to dry even _with_ a blow drier, it was really something that his contacts were the more pressing issue.

Sasuke liked his own contacts.  Well, until one either fell out or he got something stuck underneath, but the latter wasn't any different for people with perfect vision.  Sasuke looked funny in glasses anyway.

Sasuke plopped down on one of the sofas, pulled out his smartphone, and started playing _Reckless Racing_ to pass the time.

***

The fund-raiser was held in a posh hotel in downtown Konoha.

It was a sleek, sort of spiralled skyscraper that was lit up brightly with blues and whites, standing out from the rest of the towering buildings surrounding.  It was a magnificent thing, though, spotted with the night-time lights that reflected off the glass and mirror surfaces and almost distorted by the odd way the building was designed.  If he had been the type of artist that painted or sketched such things, he would've gotten right on it, but he preferred his rather bizarre imagination.  He wanted to ignore the party in lieu of finding a nice spot outside on a bench, staring at the night life around him and the hotel itself.

He didn't get that lucky.  They had hired a driver and a ridiculous limousine, as was justified when looking pretentious in front of business and political rivals.  The limo pulled under the glass awning, and he could hear the driver hop out of the vehicle.  To his far left, his father said, “Don't smile for the cameras.”

Sasuke snorted, whereas Itachi fought the urge to roll his eyes.

The driver opened the door on Itachi's side, so he stepped out first.  He could see the brightly coloured, impeccably designed foyer of the hotel directly in front of him, and through the reflecting glass of the doors he could see the flashing lights of photographers.  He was so internally pleased that he would never be involved in such a non-private life when he graduated school.  Sasuke was doomed, but at least his brother knew how to work the public aspect of being the heir to a gigantic corporation.  He proved this the second he stepped out of the limo by lifting a hand in greeting and giving a solemn nod to the photographers.  His father, after helping Mikoto out of the vehicle like a gentleman, proceeded to do the same thing, and his mother gave a graceful wave.

Not sparing even a single glance to the photographers, Itachi made for the doors, which were immediately opened by the doormen.  He wasn't a fan of shameless self-promotion and he wasn't a fan of being blinded any more than he already was either.

When inside, the blast of air conditioning giving him goose-flesh, he made his general way to the front desk.  He could hear the rest of his family enter the foyer behind him, a murmur of speech accompanying them, and then they were all inside a shiny box of death (according to Sasuke, but he was a drama queen).  The doorman didn't say a word, pressing the button for level two, where apparently they were all headed.

He hated the lack of anonymity, but there was only so much he could internally angst about before he grew tired with self-pity.

When the door to the lift opened, it was to a rather dignified party. Despite the murmur of voices and the swell of an orchestra — how utterly ridiculous, but politicians would be politicians — it was quiet and smothering.  Typical political fund-raiser, full of wealthy snobs and rich arseholes.  In the corner, he could spot the figure of the Prime Minister and his wife, two people that were hard to miss even under normal circumstances.  He was almost nonsensically handsome, with fine bone structure, bright blue eyes, and shiny golden hair.  He was also wearing a white suit with a blue tie, so he stood out even more.

His wife was the only person making any _real_ noise.  She was infamous as a spitfire that played more practical jokes on her close friends and relatives than shouldn't have been acceptable considering her social stature.  She laughed loudly and with her entire face, absurdly long red hair swirling around her like a flame, and gestured wildly with her hands as she tried to make a point.

Beside them both was a blond boy with big, expressive blue eyes that were staring right at Itachi and Sasuke.

A wicked grin popped up on the boy's mouth, and Itachi found himself younger brother through the crowds in his direction.  He figured that the boy was Naruto, the son that Sasuke was not-friends with, because he looked like Minato had cloned himself with a slight tweak, which was Kushina's big, almond-shaped eyes.

ANBU, the personal detail of the Emperor, lined the walls in statue-like order, their delicately painted masks covering faces and the hooded cloaks covering their bodies and hair.  ANBU always gave Itachi the chills, and he wondered how many of them were scatted throughout the building and others surrounding.  All of the ANBU along the walls were cloaked in black, so the white-cloaked captains were probably out patrolling for security, and he tried not to tense up in response.  He hated the idea of people watching him without knowing about it, and since he couldn't see the eyes of the ANBU, he felt like they were staring.  This was probably ridiculous, but he couldn't help it.

“Whaddup, prick?” greeted Naruto, his voice nasally and almost forcibly quiet.  Itachi knew without a doubt that he didn't want to be around him when the boy was speaking at normal range — he had a feeling it would be deafening.

“Greetings, nave,” Sasuke replied sarcastically.

Itachi glanced at his brother, a tad bit confused.  _Isn't 'nave' a word used for the centre of a church?_   It was probably a gamer thing, because Sasuke was the type.

“Yeah, so Dad rented out the penthouse for the night, so we're all gonna scram from all the _schmoozing_.  We, uh, sorta have to let all of the other kids come, but we can lock them in a room with some Legos or something and let them giggle with each other.  We're just going to wait until after dinner, because we have appearances or something.”

“Awesome,” muttered Sasuke triumphantly.  “I was hoping I wasn't forcing my brother and I to endure hours of senseless bureaucracy without being relieved.  I'm kind of surprised that he's allowing it.  I had all but given up hope.”

Naruto rolled his eyes.  “Please.  My dad's never been really down with all the bullcrap that people usually go on about.  He's a revolutionary or something, I dunno.  And he was a kid that grew up in politics, too, so he knows how boring all this can be for teenagers.”

“Father'll be furious,” Sasuke mentioned, and then nudged Itachi.  “You coming?”

Itachi started to reply but then Namikaze Minato's voice rang out, “Welcome everyone!  Why don't we all take our seats and get this lovely show on the road?”

Naruto snickered as if humoured by a great secret and beckoned the two of them forward.  “C'mon, you are with us.  So are the Hyūga family. I have a feeling someone's gonna end up starting a clan war by the end of it.  Eh, well, at least we don't have to deal with the Sabakus and the Sarutobis.  That would be a nightmare when dealing with you bastard Uchiha, just saying.”

Well, it wasn't exactly a secret that the Uchiha didn't get along with the Sarutobi, but the Sabaku was a different story.  Offending them wouldn't cause a clan war — it would cause _civil war_.  There was a big difference between throwing money around while being pretentious and stocking up guns while offing all the people that stood in one's way.

The Uchiha and the Sabaku were always at odds.  Probably because the Uchiha were constantly trying to undermine the Sabaku family through scheming of their own.  Fugaku would never admit it, but sometimes there was no difference between the Uchiha's shady dealings and the Sabaku's not exactly legal activities.

The beauty of money.

They sat down, Sasuke to Fugaku's left and Itachi on the right of Mikoto, and Itachi ignored the dark headed Hyūga girl that was blushing and practically curled in on herself.  Hinata, her name was.  Itachi had met her before at a banquet right after the whole Orochimaru business had spiralled out of control.  She was a soft-spoken, timid girl, from what he remembered, and it didn't look like she had changed much.

They all spoke of meaningless things, almost as if walking on strings. Which was kind of the case, considering that one misspoken word could cause so much hostility that it wouldn't be worth it.  Itachi could sense more than see his father holding his tongue on more than one occasion and it set his nerves on edge with all of the tension in the air.

The ANBU stared.

He picked at his ordered food half-heartedly, moving the vegetables around but not really eating them.  He felt uncomfortably hot and wary in the midst of the forceful peace at the table, but he hid it well.  He watched Sasuke chat lowly about something or another with his blond friend, mouth curved in a smirk as his dark eyes twinkled, and there was a wide, diabolical smile on Naruto's face.  He focussed on their actions toward each other, trying to hide his discomfort, and it worked somewhat.  The loud murmurs of the wealthy guests turned into a soft hum, and the crackling energy between the alpha males at the table dimmed behind his investigation of sorts.

It was all cancelled out by the ANBU.  He could feel their presence in the room, thick and foreboding, and he could feel that his arms had broken out into goose flesh.  He schooled his expression accordingly and no one seemed to notice, excluding Sasuke who glanced over at him once in silent appraisal.  Itachi wasn't sure what he was seeing, because Sasuke frowned, but nevertheless he continued speaking to Naruto albeit without the smirk.

Itachi wanted to excuse himself, perhaps find a nice, dark corner in the hotel and just breathe, but he didn't.  It was rude to do such things during dinner, and besides, everyone's attention would've focussed on him yet again.  So instead he continued to be a quiet presence in the midst of the tension.

That was, until Hiashi directed his attention to Itachi himself.

Hyūga Hiashi wasn't known for subtlety, much like Fugaku.  He focussed his eerie-looking lavender eyes onto Itachi's posture-perfect form and said to Itachi's father, “Haven't seen your eldest in a while, Fugaku-san.  Have you been hiding him because he's been a disappointment to your legacy and has brought shame on your name?  Or is it because you don't want to marry him off like is customary? Hinata is eligible for marriage herself and your eldest is at the age as well — perhaps we could tie our influential clans together and your son could actually be worth something.”

Itachi didn't react, unlike Sasuke (who bristled and looked ready to bite Hiashi's face off) or Hinata (who looked as if she wanted to fall through the floor in embarrassment).  His father, face steely and no-nonsense, said in a calm tone that Itachi could tell was forced, “I'm not of the opinion that this is up for discussion.  My children are free to have their own will, and Itachi has chosen his own path.  Unlike yours, Hiashi-san, who has obviously been shamed as well and yet you still force her to your agenda.  Perhaps you should be a father instead of a tyrant and let your children choose their own happiness.”

Itachi blinked, slowly, and wished more than ever that he could excuse himself.  This time, however, he wished that he could take Hinata with him as he knew exactly what she was feeling.  It was practically flowing off her body in waves.  He hadn't really thought about how similar their positions were, but he wondered if Sasuke was right about her affections.  Perhaps Hinata _would_ marry into a family that would take her opinion into regards, where she could be herself and happy with the Namikazes.  Hiashi wasn't a bad man by any means, nor was his clan terrible, but clans would be clans and with that came responsibility and tradition.

Then he vaguely wondered if he _himself_ would get married into a family that his father wouldn't be horrified to be linked to.  Then again, as long as he didn't marry into the Senju or any of their branches, there probably wouldn't be a problem.  Unless Hiashi ruined the fragile truce between their clans, and then Hyūga would most likely be off-limits as well.  There was only so much compromise that Uchiha Fugaku could take before he would snap, and Itachi had already filled his quota.

Hiashi opened his mouth to argue but the Prime Minister laughed.  “Oh you lot are priceless.  Arguing over something so ridiculous and old-fashioned.  Every clan will have their own way of going through their traditions, and until I can get even _half_ of these barbaric ways outlawed, there's no use arguing about it.  Perhaps our children would like to leave the table now, to be spared boring political talk and the nonsensical pissing contest?”

Itachi could've hugged Minato if he had allowed himself to lose his iron-willed cool.

“ _Excuse_ me, Minato-sama?” asked Hiashi, his body language aloof but his eyes absolutely furious.

“C'mon guys!” said Naruto with an excitement that seemed almost forced, grinning a bit awkwardly.  “Everyone eighteen or younger who doesn't have to be here should follow me!”

Quite a few people stood up then, the youngest being around ten.  Itachi and Sasuke stayed seated, but when Fugaku gave Itachi a pointed look and inclined his head, Itachi followed the others.  He almost wanted to heave a sigh in relief but saved it for later, glancing at Hinata as she remained in her seat.  He knew without a doubt that Hinata would be forced to endure the monotonous routine that came with political fund-raisers, so he looked at Hiashi and asked blankly, “Might I accompany your daughter to wherever our age group is headed?”

Hiashi visibly took a deep breath and then answered, “You may, Uchiha-san.”

Hinata stood up gracefully and took Itachi's arm, falling into step beside him as Itachi followed his younger brother.  They exited the room, not looking back even when a few ANBU followed the group out the doors, and only spoke when they had left the tension-charged atmosphere behind them.

“Forgive my father for his rudeness,” he said automatically.  “He did not mean ill-will.”

“I understand,” she said, fumbling over her words in her high-pitched, almost breathless voice as she disconnected their arms with a faint smile.  “M-my father is a good p-person, but like all clan heads, h-he is very com-competitive and I'm s-sure your father is no different.  Forgive my f-father as well for his c-crass words towards you, Itachi-sama.”

“I am aware,” replied Itachi, not wanting to say anything really telling in front of their silent, porcelain-faced shadows.  “And please, just Itachi.”

Her smile grew a bit and her cheeks tinged pink before those wide, lavender eyes flickered towards Naruto and Sasuke ahead of them.  She increased her pace while Sasuke fell back, and the two brothers fell into an easy stride aside one another as they made their way to the lifts.  They walked in silence, watching the others chat amiably, before Sasuke decided to speak.

“Thanks for that, with Hinata I mean.  I don't really know her very well but it wasn't cool what happened back there and I know she appreciates it.  I would have, in her situation.”  They watched as said young woman continuously looked at Naruto's form, her blush accenting her pale complexion.  Itachi wasn't sure if Naruto was _that_ dim-witted to catch the adoration in her gaze as he gave her a wide grin, but obviously he was because he didn't even acknowledge it as he spoke to the girl.

“I know,” said Sasuke, his tone amused.  “It's pretty obvious, but Naruto's a total fucknut about that sort of stuff.  Or about anything, really.”

“Language,” admonished Itachi softly.

“Whatever,” Sasuke huffed, rolling his eyes.  Then his demeanour changed and he asked, “You're alright?  Father didn't really...stick up for you, even though he actually kind of did, but—”

“I'm fine,” Itachi assured him, except he really wasn't.  Since they were at the back, there were ANBU right behind them, most likely hearing every word they said.  By order, they were required to listen and report everything they heard, be it for national security or just for intelligence purposes, and for that Itachi didn't trust them even more than he already didn't.  What made it worse was that there were two white-cloaked figures in the mix as well, captains and far more observant and sly than their underlings.  The hair on the back of his neck was standing up, uncomfortably, but he forced himself to stay expressionless as he added, “You worry too much, Sasuke.  Go have fun with your friends, and I'll follow behind, see this new friend you have.”

“He's not my friend,” groaned Sasuke, but a small smile was popping up on his lips.  He sped up and flicked the blond on the back of the head, hard if Naruto's yelp was any indication.  The first half of them piled into one of the three lifts, Sasuke shoving himself through the crowd to join his not-friends, and when the doors closed Itachi let out a breath that he hadn't realised that he was holding.

Fighting the urge to look over his shoulder, he slipped silently away from the group that was waiting for the next elevator, slipping into the hallways of the hotel.  He wondered aimlessly, the entire floor deserted due to the famous names in attendance, and tried to ignore the prickling feeling that he was being followed.  It was a slim chance to none that he _wasn't_ being followed, honestly, because he was an Uchiha and therefore an important person regardless of not being the heir of UI.  Therefore, he stomached it in silence until he found himself in an empty room near the back-end of the hotel.

It was a lounge room of sorts, perhaps, something not uncommon within five-star hotels but it _was_ uncommon that it was empty.  The bar on the far wall was empty of personnel, and he debated on whether or not to pour himself a glass of wine.  He opted against it, however, because he could sense more than see the ANBU watching him even if there was no cloaked figure in sight.

Itachi walked around the room, eventually coming up with a small notepad with the hotel's insignia and a pen, which he grasped.  After turning off the overhead lights, he sat down on one of the soft, plush beige couches facing the window, his eyes taking in the magnificent sight. Despite his view only being from the second floor, it was absolutely gorgeous, all brightly coloured night-life and scenery that ignited the fire of imagination.  He could see the hundreds of shiny vehicles speeding through the traffic, pedestrians walking with children or laughing around an ice cream cone, and the skyscrapers that loomed every direction that his eye could see, every one of them different in shape and colour.

Immediately, he uncapped his pen and began scribbling, not the view that he witnessed but something wild and original.  He wasn't into still-life or photography-based art, nor was he much into sketching, but inspiration was inspiration and he wasn't going to deny that.  It was burned into his brain, and as the pen flew across the tiny notepad, he forgot everything but the depiction that his mind let out.  He barely even recognised the drawing as he was doing it, his brain and left hand working without thought, and didn't realise when he wasn't alone at all, completely lost.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he became aware of his surroundings again.  His hand was aching, so it probably had been a while, and all of the papers and the cardboard back from the notepad were scattered around his sitting form, drawn upon in his frenzy.  He placed the pen on the couch beside him and cracked his fingers, closing his eyes when they popped satisfyingly.

He then became aware of his company.

His head snapped to look behind him, cracking as well in the silence, and his eyes zeroed in on the white-cloaked figure behind him.  The ANBU captain stood by the open doorway, silent and ominous as the unseen eyes stared at him.  Or perhaps the captain _wasn't_ staring at him, but instead at the breathtaking scenery through the window, but Itachi sincerely doubted it.  The porcelain mask was nondescript, perhaps a fox or maybe a cat but he couldn't be sure in the darkness only slightly lit up by the night-life outside.  The ninjatō strapped to his back couldn't be seen except from a small bump behind the cloak, as the hood was pulled up over the ANBU's hair.

Forcing his voice to stay steady, he said, “Am I breaking any rules by being here without supervision?”

The ANBU did not move nor did it speak, not that Itachi had expected that by any means, regarding Itachi silently.  The unnerving silence caused goose-flesh to come upon Itachi's body, his entire form shuddering without his accord.  He tried again, hating the small tremor that seeped into his voice.  “Perhaps I should leave then?”

Finally, the ANBU spoke, despite the fact that it was against regulation. Perhaps the captains had different orders than the subordinates, but Itachi nearly sighed in relief when the voice said, “You are fine where you are at, Uchiha-sama.”  The tone was rich, deep and mellow and very masculine, a timbre that would've sent shivers down Itachi's spine had it not been attached to the ANBU itself.  _Him_ self. It did prove that ANBU wasn't composed of a collection of emotionless automatons, robots designed solely for infiltration, security, torture, and murder.

It also proved that _humans_ were capable of such atrocities, and Itachi wasn't sure what he felt about that.  He wasn't naïve enough to believe that humans didn't commit such acts — between serial killers and the military, there was no room for doubt — but it was still heart-stopping to be in the same room as one who had _legal_ acceptance to do so.

“Thank you, ANBU-sama,” Itachi said respectfully, distantly pleased that the tremor had disappeared.  His mind, still swirling with thoughts that he himself couldn't comprehend, refused to focus on anything but trivial things, so he stayed quiet after his well-mannered remark. It wouldn't have done for him to make a fool of himself especially in front of the henchmen of the Emperor where even the most mundane things could be taken as personal insult.  He'd end up disappearing in the night without a trace, probably a courtesy from the ANBU captain behind him.

For a moment, they stared at each other (or perhaps they didn't because Itachi couldn't see the ANBU's eyes) before the deep, mellow, slightly muffled timbre spoke again, “Might I acquire as to why you have broken away from your peers to be alone?”  The way he spoke gave a distinct air of high behaviour, not because of his formal word usage but how he wove his words together.  Itachi had a brief thought as to whether the man behind the porcelain mask was born of prestige, but then quickly shook that thought off.  If one of the prominent families had allowed even a branch child to join the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, or Special Assassination and Tactical Squad, of Konohagakure, Itachi would've known about it.  Scandals like _that_ tended to spread like wildfire.

Itachi blinked, very slowly, and answered truthfully, “I prefer to be alone.”

The ANBU captain tilted his head, almost like a dog would, and then said, “Very well, Uchiha-sama, but I must stay within your presence while you are away.  For security reasons, as you very well know.”

Itachi did know that, but there was something odd about the ANBU's words. Nevertheless, he turned away with stiff shoulders and set his gaze to the window.  Somehow, the beautiful view didn't seem so inspiring and lovely as it had before, and he mentioned softly, “I am not sure whether this classifies as being alone or not, or whether or not I am comfortable with this.”

“I can watch your movements from afar if you would prefer?” asked the ANBU, stated more like a question, and Itachi quelled the compulsion to look back over his shoulder at the faceless human being.

“That will be unnecessary,” Itachi admitted, his voice dull.  “I could sense your presence from the second I deviated from my peers, as you so call them.”

The ANBU, his voice quiet, replied, “You have a good sense of your surroundings.  Not a bad thing of a man with your social stature and you should pride yourself on such a trait.”

Itachi didn't know what to say to that, as a compliment from a nameless-faceless murderer wasn't something that happened to him every day, so he stayed quiet.  Almost absently, he began gathering all of the drawings that were littered about him, stacking them into a pile that had no order whatsoever.  He still couldn't pinpoint what the drawings were even about and wasn't sure if he wanted to — the beauty of art was that it was open for interpretation even from the artist themselves and all that mattered to him was the phantom emotion that looking at them brought.

Then, out of nowhere, that voice broke the silence once more.  “There is another notepad in the cabinet next to the alcohol.  If you would like, I could get it for you.”

Itachi shivered and he wasn't sure why.  When he finally rounded up all of the indescribable emotions under his skin, emotions that he didn't believe he had even _felt_ before, and had shoved them into a corner of his mind for later contemplation, a full minute had gone by.  His blank stare out the window was most likely glazed over, completely dead to the world behind the irritating contacts, and his hands were clenched in his lap.  Eventually, in a tone that he was surprised to hear come out evenly, he responded, “There is no need. I have lost my inspiration.”

“Are you that wary of my profession that such inspiration has disappeared?” asked the ANBU.

“I was under the impression that your kind were not permitted to speak,” Itachi remarked, not unkindly.  He was almost uncomfortable with the exchange, somewhat _because_ he had been under that impression. However, there was the overwhelming fact that this was a conversation that was almost human in nature, and that wasn't easy to take in.  He still wasn't sure what he thought about a human being capable of the horrors that ANBU did without fail or error, so he sure as hell wasn't sure what he thought about having a civilised and culturally-spoken conversation with one.

“I take that as a yes,” the ANBU declared, a twinge of something other than emptiness in his intonation.  Curiosity possibly, or even amusement.  It was hard to pinpoint exactly, since his voice was slightly muffled by the mask and the figure seemingly put a lot of effort keeping as relaxed and unrecognisable as possible.

“I didn't say that,” Itachi felt inclined to say.

Itachi heard the shuffling of the ANBU's cloak behind him.  “You didn't have to; it was clearly implied by your manner of speaking and your body language only enforces the suggestion.”

“Spoken like a true politician,” Itachi mentioned, almost amused but refusing to show it.

“Says the previous heir to the Uchiha legacy, who clearly has all of the markers for an excellent ANBU operative if he could work a bit harder on masking his genuflection,” the ANBU shot back, and this time Itachi was _convinced_ the man was amused.

Itachi allowed himself a small frown, filing that into the box of later contemplation as well.  He didn't need to be distracted by that comment.  In any case, he still didn't know how to respond to such a statement without contemplating it so he kept silent, keeping his eyes locked onto the window.

Then, once again, the ANBU captain broke the silence, but it wasn't what Itachi had been expecting.  “No, we're not permitted to speak with anyone other than our Emperor, may he live forever, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention our light-hearted conversation with your father or others.”

Itachi felt his heart and brain stop for a second before they began working once again in tandem, almost in overdrive to compensate.  His hands, which had stilled the absent clenching in his lap, began the unconscious action again but he didn't let himself focus on it long enough to stop the nervous fidgeting.  At least he wasn't picking his lips raw or the skin and cuticles around his fingernails, rather nasty habits that had been the bane of Uchiha Fugaku's patience during his grooming period.

Eventually though, he replied quietly, “As long as you don't suggest my name to any of your superiors or the Emperor himself, may he live forever, I think that we can agree on that mutual understanding.”

“Sounds like an agreeable compromise in my opinion, Itachi-sama,” the ANBU captain said, cordially.

Itachi continued to stare out the window, the ANBU's presence a prickling sense behind him.

***

Sasuke, laughing uproariously, stumbled into the attached kitchen to the penthouse.

His mind, solely on the game and upcoming strategies to use against the dumbarse, didn't register that he hadn't seen his brother in a while until he had poured himself a glass of pineapple juice, no ice. Halfway to his mouth, ready to take a gigantic gulp to quench the dryness of his throat, he paused and blinked rapidly for a long moment.  He nearly forgot about the cold drink in his hand as he pondered, questioning and unsure.

Itachi had been behind him in the elevators, opting to be in the second group with Hinata and that Konohamaru kid whereas Sasuke had squeezed himself into the lift with Naruto and that creepy red-headed kid that absolutely owned at FPS games.  Now that he was thinking about it, he hadn't seen Itachi since that moment, since he had immediately beelined to the Xbox console hooked up to a sinfully gigantic television.  Then he had gotten lost in a Call of Duty match on-line and didn't remember much except for how epic he was until that exact moment.

“Sasuke, get your face in here!” bellowed Naruto, and there was a cacophony of laughter and cheering from the fifteen or so others that had joined them.  He didn't listen to his irritating not-friend though, opting instead to swallow despite his dry throat with a weird feeling in his stomach.

He turned on his heel, pineapple juice forgotten, and called out, “Hey, has anyone seen my brother?  Like, at all?”  He passed by all of the teens and kids in the living area, heading to the other rooms where Itachi would be hiding out in his lonesome.  Itachi had always preferred to be alone, usually with something around to colour on or think about, and there was a better chance of finding him in some random room that didn't have frequent visitors.  Like a bedroom, or even a bathroom if it wasn't the only one available and out of the way.

“Nah, haven't seen him,” he heard Naruto say.  He heard a few echoes of that statement from various others, mostly children that were still cross that they weren't able to play with the big dogs but amused at the level of colourful language and violence that spontaneously erupted from it.  They would've known better than anyone except the ANBU as to whether Itachi had even stepped foot into the penthouse, since they hadn't been completely distracted by the game.  Mostly, but not completely.

Speaking of the ANBU, there were a few of them scattered about but Sasuke knew that asking them would've been a lost cause.  ANBU didn't speak — it was rumoured that they were AIs developed by the Emperor himself, but despite being a tech-head himself, Sasuke figured that it was probably because they were ordered to speak to no one except the Emperor.  The world just didn't have that kind of technology yet, to be honest, although that wasn't to say that UI wasn't trying their hardest to come up with it.

“Guys, I've got to find him,” Sasuke said, not exactly panicked.  He knew that his brother was safe, because if something had happened to _anyone_ the ANBU would've sent out an alert and gotten everyone to a safe location.  However, it wasn't exactly a secret between the two brothers that Itachi didn't feel comfortable around ANBU in general and opted to avoid them.  Sasuke knew that his brother wouldn't try to outwit them to be alone, since ANBU were everywhere and there was literally no hiding from them, so it didn't make sense that he would leave, on his own, when he knew that he was going to be alone with them.  Despite Itachi not being fond of crowds, especially rowdy ones with children involved, he would've stayed with the group out of his own view of comfort in numbers when ANBU was involved.

Sasuke didn't know _what_ to think, and that made him uncomfortable.

Despite knowing that it wouldn't do any good, he went to the two ANBU stationed at the door to the lifts and asked, “If he was in trouble, you would tell us wouldn't you?  Or at least give an indication that you were doing something about it?”

The two ANBU were silent, not moving a muscle, and Sasuke scowled. “Fine, move out of the way and shadow me if you have to; I'm going out to look for him if you won't even give me the slightest clue as to whether he's okay or not.”

He made to move past them to the lift, which was stationed inside of the penthouse, but the black-cloaked ANBU moved as well, standing in front of the elevator doors in silent regard.  Sasuke's scowl deepened but before he could shoot of some rather inventive insults to their figures, Naruto placed a hand on Sasuke's shoulder.

“There's no point,” the blond stated simply.  “If there was a problem, they would've moved us immediately to the predetermined location. Your brother isn't here, but that doesn't mean he isn't safe.  I'm sure the ANBU are protecting Itachi-san to their fullest ability. It's their job, after all.”

“He wouldn't have left the group,” Sasuke growled.  “He hates the ANBU.”

Simultaneously, the ANBU moved back to their posts beside the doors, a smooth movement that seemed almost choreographed by how elegant it was.  One of the ANBU raised a gloved hand, the black cloak falling to reveal the sleek, silver arm guards and the black mesh underneath, and gave a quick _okey-dokey_ sign.

Sasuke stared in something akin to shock.  “...what?” he asked absently to himself, not really believing what he had just seen.  Who in the world still _did_ that except kids in first year, and why in the world would the elite _ANBU_ do it?  Then again, they weren't exactly the talkative type, but that was just...unbelievable.

Naruto laughed from beside him.  “Ha, ANBU is awesome.  Totally people-friendy after all, not crazy psychopaths with blood-lust.  I told you losers that okey-dokey would come back into fashion.”  He lifted his own hand with a large grin and gave the same sign, exaggeratively, and Sasuke couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Then, ignoring the freak beside him, he questioned, “You're absolutely _sure_?”

Again, the sign was given, just as quick and precise, and despite the fact that the questions were rumbling in his traitorous brain like a freight train, he slowly turned on his heel and began walking towards the gamers and children.  He sat down on one of the plush blue couches and said darkly, “I'm not playing any more, not until I see my brother.  Start a new game or something.  I won't be able to concentrate and I'll only be a liability.”

Naruto sat beside him and shrugged.  “Alright.  Your loss.  I guess I sorta get it though; I'd be freaking out if it was my anti-social brother playing hide-and-seek with trained assassins.”

Sasuke sent Naruto a burning look that spoke of future castration.

The pineapple juice was forgotten, as was his thirst.

***

The ANBU captain had moved next to the window.

The magnificent array of lights lit up the nondescript white cloak with a magnitude of colour while the porcelain mask was almost completely shrouded in the darkness of his hood.  It was kind of magnificent, seeing that tall form standing in relief against the starkness of the night-life behind him, and Itachi's fingers itched for a box of pastel and suitable paper.

It was odd, because he still felt like an uncomfortable current was buzzing under his skin yet he didn't feel the urge to leave.  He got the distinct impression that they were alone, the nearest ANBU operatives probably in the ventilation system somewhere close by but not close enough to be in regard, and that wasn't even enough to make him run.  He felt...wrong, somehow, but not afraid, uncomfortable but comfortable.  He sat in silence, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was observing the too-still figure in front of him.  His dark eyes took in every line, every splash of colour as it flickered on that white-cloaked canvas, every small move the ANBU's head made.  It was almost like he was listening to something, perhaps a wireless radio that fed him reports from his subordinates on patrol or maybe he was just listening to Itachi's breathing.

“Don't you get tired of just standing there?” asked Itachi, honestly curious.  He was metaphorically betting on the fact that he had developed a strange, stilted agreement with his guest, and he had always been curious about ANBU.  He despised their inhumanity and abhorred their slithering nature even more of course, so he had never let himself ponder all of his interest in the profession, but he figured that now was the best time to vent all of it.  He doubted if he would ever get a chance to do this again, with an ANBU willing to break protocol to speak.

“Would you rather me sit?” questioned the ANBU, not moving from his position.  The eyes seemed to be staring at the doorway of the room behind Itachi, but there was no way to know for sure.  For all Itachi knew, he could've been staring directly at him.

“There are plenty of seats in this lounge,” stated Itachi, “but that was not my question, as you are aware.”

“Indeed,” the figure agreed.  Then, after a beat of silence, he continued, “Most people do not question such trivial things.  They question our deeds, our actions, while employed with the Emperor's guard, may he live forever.  They ask us why we do the things that we do.  We do not answer these questions of course, because it is against our code and also because the answers should be obvious.  To hear a question about trivial things such as discomfort over our duties, not from a moral standpoint but for a physical one, has forced me to think.”

Itachi pondered that.  “You've never thought about it?”

“I'm sure I did once,” admitted the ANBU captain, “but it is irrelevant.  We do as we are told, even if that includes standing on one's feet for days at a time.”

“You must be very old,” Itachi said.

The ANBU captain tilted his head slightly.  Itachi knew without a doubt that the man knew what Itachi meant by such a statement, that Itachi was fishing, so he was mildly surprised when the captain humoured him.  “I am old enough to know my profession inside and out, but young enough to learn.”

“How ambiguous,” Itachi mentioned slowly.

“Age is also irrelevant,” the ANBU captain said.  “I have known ANBU a mere year older than you are that are more prevalent and intelligent than ANBU twice their senior.”

“You speak like you know from experience,” Itachi stated, fishing again and not being subtle about it.  However, it didn't much matter because the ANBU captain was one step ahead of him.

“The majority of ANBU is composed of geniuses in their respective fields. It is safe to assume that the odds are in my favour.”  Definitely amused with an added hint of coyness.

“Nicely stated,” Itachi told the captain, and strangely a smile popped onto his lips without accord.  To most, it mostly likely would've been unnoticed but he doubted that the ANBU would be fooled by it.

He was quickly proven right.  “Do you now believe that our organisation isn't composed of ruthless, sociopathic criminals with the legality to carry out atrocities?”

“No,” Itachi answered truthfully.  “There are always the few out of the many that ruin the good name of anything.”  Then, after a heartbeat of hesitation, he added, “And I've never believed you were criminals.  What you do is for the country, for our safety, even if the methods aren't agreeable to humanity.  That doesn't make you criminals — it makes you a quintessential, more extreme branch of the government.”

“Noted,” the ANBU captain said, his voice toneless once again.  “Nevertheless, if you must know, most of the ANBU who are part of that...particular speciality do not enjoy it, but do it out of duty, responsibility, and honour.”

“There is no honour in torturing and killing another human being,” Itachi said, focussing his attention on keeping the bite out of his voice and ultimately succeeding.

The ANBU's shrouded porcelain mask turned directly towards Itachi as he said, “Not all of us are murderers.  Only a percentage, and a small one at that.”

“And what is this measly figure?” Itachi asked, and some of his sarcasm must've escaped from his iron-clad control over his emotions because the ANBU captain let out a breath that might've been a laugh.

“About eleven per-cent,” the captain estimated.

“That is about eleven per-cent too many,” Itachi said evenly.

“Assassination of threats and terrorists is a necessary evil that someone has to do in order to keep you and your family safe,” said the ANBU.

Unfortunately, Itachi knew that assassinations were necessary but debating was debating.  “And when does something result in such extremes?  Who should have the power to decide life or death over another human being like a god?”

“The Emperor, may he live forever, who is a good and fair man as you know without a reasonable doubt,” shot back the ANBU immediately, and there was a twinge of some emotion in his voice that Itachi couldn't place.  Itachi had an inkling that it was dissatisfaction, but he couldn't be sure.  He had always known that ANBU were masters at mindfucks, but Itachi hadn't expected him to be so off-the-map that even Itachi couldn't accurately place it.  He had always considered himself relatively good at reading people after all.

“I know that he is a good man, _ANBU-sama_ , but that doesn't mean that he should be allowed to control such things.  He is infamous for his peace talks and his treaties, but taking the life of another human being just because of one man's agenda not agreeing with another's is purely _wrong_ , and that's all there is to it.”

“The Emperor, may he live forever, does not take such acts lightly, _Itachi-sama_ ,” the ANBU declared, suddenly stepping closer towards Itachi and squatting at his feet.  Looking down upon that porcelain mask sent something pure and _raw_ down his Itachi's spine.  Even despite his entire body and mind being concentrated on the figure directly in front of him, he distantly placed the intense emotion as a mixture of fear, something he had never felt so vividly before.  He had been scared many times in his lifetime — when Sasuke had been hurt by those thugs in Iwa, when he had been in that car accident with his father in Suna, and when he had been diagnosed with leukaemia also while in Iwa were the top contenders — but this was something different entirely.  The adrenaline pumped through his blood, the fear and hyper-awareness that there was a dangerous man in front of him flowing like lava, and he knew that even though the ANBU captain would _never_ hurt him unless ordered by the Emperor himself, he was fully aware that such an order could be asked for and most likely accepted under false pretences.

There was a certain type of thrill that came with knowing that death was staring him in the face, quite literally, and there was nothing he could do to stop it if it came to that.

“He does _everything_ in his power to make sure that we never have to resort to such measures but other countries do not have the same regards.  I'm sure you don't even want to know how many times we have saved your father's life, your mother's life, your life, or even your precious _brother's_ life.  The people that are ordered to assassinate to keep all of you safe, even the poor civilians that most of your elite family doesn't even bother to recognise on the streets, hate this just as much as you do, but we do it because it is important to us.  There is _honour_ in it, because we are protecting our own, regardless of whether or not they are good or bad people.  We are honouring life by protecting _yours_ , and it is as simple as that.  To think that ANBU feels _nothing_ for what they have done is incredibly naïve, because the blood on our hands never goes away, but we do _not_ regret it.”

“I never said you felt _nothing_ ,” Itachi argued vehemently, not even caring that he was leaning forward closer to the ANBU captain and that his voice was increasing in speed.  “I _said_ that one man doesn't deserve all of that power.  What he does is just, I understand that, and I know that ANBU and the military itself has protected us from so much threats that I could not possibly comprehend.  But one man does not get to play God, regardless of how just it is.  Those ANBU, those soldiers, that threaten our national security here in the Fire Country are only following orders too.  The people you kill most likely have families, friends, that they never get to see again.  The people you _murder_ never get to hold their children or kiss their wives ever again because they're only doing the exact same thing _you_ are doing!”

He didn't even register that he was all but yelling by that point, completely at the mercy of the raging thoughts that refused to be silenced.  “What makes you so much better than them?  What makes you so much better than those men and women who are dying on the field?  They have different ways of looking at things, different policies and different religious beliefs, but that doesn't mean that that they are less than you for thinking so!  Most likely the only reason these countries are attacking ours is because this country has _continuously_ pushed agenda on others despite what they wish. Most of the time we're the bullies that are _instigating_ these reactions, and that doesn't make them them _bad_.  Like I've said before, there are exceptions to the rule, but you know just as well as I that the majority of ANBU's notorious actions, as well as the military's, are all for the _country_ , not the _individuals_ like my father and other clan heads.  _That_ would be naïve to assume.”

The return to awareness after his out-of-control raving was slow.  He heard his breathing first, fast and shallow.  Then he felt his heartbeat, which was also fast, to the point where he felt light-headed.  Then he felt the shudders racing through his form, from where he wasn't sure.  Then he felt the closeness of the body in front of him, even if said body hadn't moved as far as he could tell, as if the very presence was pushing against his chest.

He didn't even know _why_ he had lost control, because it was something that he had not been quiet about to his family.  He had had such discussions with his brother, his father, and even his few friends without ever going to such an extreme, and he felt almost disembodied with the foreign intensity directed at the ANBU captain.

The return to his usual default, the aloof calm, was quick and precise.

He leant back into the back of the sofa while retaining his straight posture and quelled the tremors immediately, schooling his disposition into normal.  The ANBU captain did not move, and perhaps it was Itachi's imagination but he swore that he could see the figure's eyes, dark and glittering, behind the eye-slits of the porcelain mask.

Softly, the captain murmured, “Until you've seen the world for what it truly is, for what it is truly capable of, then you can not possibly understand what we do.  Coming from different backgrounds, from different realities so to speak, we can not possibly understand each other's viewpoints except on a contemplative standpoint, although I won't deny that everything you just said itches at the back of the minds of ANBU.”

Then he stood up, a swift movement that surprised Itachi, and said, “You really would make a good ANBU, you know.”

“I don't ever want to be a part of that, regardless of whether my profession inside was non-violent or not,” said Itachi, honestly and serious.

In that moment, Itachi could almost feel the ANBU captain smile.

“Oh I know that, Itachi-sama,” said the captain, almost genially.

Itachi hesitated, for a long moment as he stared up into that mask, but made up his mind.

“Itachi,” he said.  “Just Itachi.”

“It is time to join the others, just-Itachi,” the ANBU captain replied.

Itachi gathered up his scribblings and stood up, the ANBU taking a step back in response. “Very well,” he replied, nearly smiling.  “Lead the way.”

The ANBU did, all the way to the penthouse suite.

***

When Itachi came inside, Sasuke sighed heavily in relief.

He rapidly stood up, ignoring the black spots that came into his vision from the blood rush to his head, and advanced on his brother.  He gave a long, piercing glare to the white-cloaked ANBU beside Itachi and proceeded to steer him away. He didn't miss the backwards glance that Itachi gave the same ANBU, and immediately resolved to ask him about it later.  After all, that glance had been the complete opposite of what he had expected.

It had almost been...inquisitive.

“Are you okay?” Sasuke whispered questioningly into Itachi's ear when they had gotten far enough away from the ANBU.  There was no guarantee that _someone_ wasn't listening, considering the surveillance available on the market (most of it designed by UI, actually), but it wasn't loud enough for the ones _physically_ in the room.

Itachi turned to him, his  
expression carefully schooled, and answered quietly, “I'm fine.”

_Alright_ meant he would live.

_Okay_ meant that he was tired.

_Good_ meant that he actually was.

_Alive_ meant that he felt accomplished.

_Brilliant_ meant that he was being sarcastic.

... _fine_ meant that he wasn't fine at all.

Sasuke knew Itachi, even if he didn't really know him.  Itachi was like a well-maintained, stiffly-backed book that rested neatly on a pristine bookshelf, but inside the pages it was ordered chaos.  In dozens of languages that switched without warning, sometimes into even maths or science equations, sometimes in Itachi's own handwriting.  The pages went on and on without a structure that couldn't be translated by anyone but Itachi, some of them torn at the edges, some burnt, some wrinkled, some disintegrated beyond repair.  Every metre that wasn't covered by words or equations was painted upon, drawn upon, done _something_ with in a nonsensical way with no order.

Nevertheless, patterns could be found.  Itachi wasn't perfectly unreadable, and no one knew him better than Sasuke did.  After so long confiding in the same person for so long, after going through so much with that person, bonds developed that were unbreakable and undeniable.

Sasuke _knew_ Itachi, even if he mostly didn't, and he _knew_ that Itachi was different because of it simply by pure instinct.

“Sasuke?” he heard his brother ask quietly when they were both sitting side-by-side on one of the smaller chairs.  Both of them were thin enough to fit rather comfortably together, not too much to be awkward but enough that Sasuke felt comforted.

“Yeah?” he questioned back, glancing at his brother with curious eyes.

Itachi gave him a look of something, something Sasuke couldn't quite place, and then said, “Never mind.”

***

The next day, Sasuke awoke in front of his computer.

He blinked rapidly, his eyes irritated from sleeping in his contacts, and then left his game room, only to find that his entire room was organised and laid out exactly how he would've liked it.

Sasuke wasn't sure if the reason why the unspoken _thank you_ was because he had dragged Itachi to the fund-raiser or if it was because Sasuke hadn't pressed about what had happened during the hour he had been missing.

Sasuke figured it was both.


	4. Plasma Grenades and Paint Thinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Four  
 _Plasma Grenades and Paint Thinner  
_ -  
“If a man harbours any sort of fear, it percolates through all thinking, damages his personality and makes him a landlord to a ghost.”  
 _Lloyd Douglass_

 

Sasuke really hated Halo, which was why he was confused as to why he was playing it.

They had been going at it for hours by that point, happily bellowing at the television as they ploughed their way through _Sniper_ in Sasuke's game room _._ Through the audio of the telly, he could hear all the enemy players shouting just as loudly as his two team-mates beside him, all of them demanding retribution and trying to devise strategy while in the middle of being picked off (although they didn't know that they were being peeped on, because people weren't _supposed_ to be able to hear the opposite team's dialogue...).  Of course, between Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura against a team of seven they were doing pretty damn good, owning the other team ten to one, but any kill that came down was a problem that could be improved through dedication to being a sheltered nerd for the rest of his or her life.  Which, _obviously_ , was the plan and all.

Still...

“What in the fuck _is_ our life?”

Naruto and Sakura laughed, eyes still trained on the video screens in front of them as they double-teamed against a douchebag on the red team.  When the idiot went down thanks to a clone and a plasma grenade, Sakura glanced over once and said, “Our life is nothing except kicking arse and taking names.  Duh.  Who do you think _you_ are, Sasuke-kun?”

“Don't call me that,” Sasuke said, not for the first time.  He knew that it wouldn't have done any good regardless, because Sakura was always polite as was her best friend the blond freak, and he would just have to learn to ignore it. He continued immediately, “My life is full of epic gaming, bullshitting with nerds, and spending time with my brother.  Oh yeah, and food.  Food is good.”

“You're lame, Sauce-Gay,” muttered Naruto before letting off a stream of profanity as a huge surge of their enemies threatened to overwhelm their merry-ish group of three.  Then, when the three of them had all but annihilated the losers in the game, he said, “Y'know, since you don't eat sweets and won't drink Dew.”

“Sorry that I'm not a stereotypical nerd, freak,” shot back Sasuke, but there wasn't much bite in it.  Funny how an epic kill with a plasma grenade during _Sniper_ of all things could dim down the antagonism. Especially since Sasuke kinda liked the guy by that point anyway. Not that Sasuke would ever admit it.

Sakura snorted loudly and rather unladylike and took out a high-riser, eyes flicking towards the doorway when Itachi entered.  “Honestly, I think you're both idiots,” she said genially before the game finally ended a massive one hundred to the opposing team's twelve.  “Hey, Itachi-san,” she greeted, grinning widely at Sasuke's older brother, and Sasuke stared pointedly in his brother's direction.

“Hello,” Itachi said quietly in response, staring blankly right back at Sasuke.

“Wassap?!” greeted Naruto loudly, obnoxiously, and, well, _loudly_.

Itachi barely gave Naruto a glance, opting instead to drop something long and narrow on Sasuke's far computer desk.  He immediately turned on his heel without a sound and left the room as quietly as he had come in.

“Your brother is too quiet. You can't trust quiet people, Sauce-Gay, 'cause they're always the ones that go ballistic and just annihilate everyone in their path,” mentioned Naruto, in which Sasuke threw a controller at his head.

Sasuke stood up and went over to the desk, and immediately lost his breath.

Sasuke's game room and personal bedroom were both filled with two things: electronics and Itachi's artwork.  The latter, which was much more important to the younger Uchiha for obvious reasons, had been an ongoing thing for a long time, but oddly enough Itachi hadn't given Sasuke as much as he would've liked.  Itachi had a tendency to light his finished pieces on fire or would recycle them.

However, when Itachi did give Sasuke pieces, they were always special in some way.  Sasuke had paintings that sometimes gave him headaches and sometimes made his skin tingle, they were so ridiculously good in some unfathomable way. Sasuke had little origami pieces made from matchboxes.  Sasuke had ceramic sculptures that weren't really sculptures exactly, more like abstract blobs of god-knew-what that Itachi had then painted in some nonsensical way.  Sasuke had the few and occasional drawings that he couldn't make sense of but could _feel_ , and even some drawings that made his heart hurt when he looked at them.

This one was one of the latter.

It was rare for Itachi to draw, especially with charcoal, as he was more inclined to pastels, paint, and crafting, so every piece that he did was special in a way that paintings simply weren't.  As Sasuke looked down on the charcoal piece, done on canvas (even more rare), he felt utterly speechless at Itachi's skill, and simply stricken that he had been given the piece in the first place.

It was of a hooded figure, ambiguous in nature and dominating the piece, against a messy backdrop.  There were shapes that resembled people, vehicles, trees, and something dark, something _dangerous_ , that Sasuke couldn't name or even contemplate.  The background was vividly shaded, the blacks contrasting magnificently with the greys of all different shades, but it was the hooded figure that was the most striking part of the piece.  It was dominating figure, yes, but not overbearing or even inhuman in size, instead just with a presence that seemed to be tangible on the canvas itself.  The cloak of the figure was white — well, as white as white charcoal could ever get anyway — but there were tints of red alongside it, or maybe that was just Sasuke's imagination.  Regardless, it was swirled with light greys where Itachi had perhaps purposefully used white charcoal in the dust of the black, and yet there was not much detail.  It had purpose, and a huge purpose at that, jumping from the canvas board as if real.  It was _tangible_ , enough so where Sasuke knew what exactly that hooded figure was.  Or, rather, _who._

Sasuke had no idea what that ANBU in the white cloak, the one that had accompanied Itachi back to the penthouse, had done to cause such an impact on Uchiha Itachi's psyche, but it drove Sasuke mad with curiosity.  Had the ANBU spoken to Itachi, given him secrets?  Had the ANBU hurt him ( _no no no, Itachi would've given an indication, and not looked back to that ANBU so inquisitively had that been the case_ )?  Sasuke didn't know, and he hated it.

That ANBU had done something though, something impacting, something strong enough to make artwork like _this_...

“My God,” a voice breathed beside him.

Sasuke looked over at Sakura, who had abandoned the game as well and was now staring at the charcoal gem that Itachi had crafted.  Her jade eyes were big, bright, and glowed in the dim light of the room, sweeping gently over the curves of the hooded figure in the drawing.  Sasuke almost wanted to smile, because maybe it wasn't just Sasuke that was affected through bias of blood relation and everyone else felt the same way about Itachi's work.  Maybe it really _was_ that powerful to other people, and Sasuke just wasn't feeling his brother's emotions more strongly because he knew Itachi the best.

“Yeah,” replied Sasuke. “He's ungodly talented.  If I had a tenth of his talent, I'd be invincible.”  Except Itachi himself wasn't invincible — everything about Itachi proved that, from Itachi's mind to the cancer that had nearly killed him.

“Give yourself some credit, Sasuke-kun,” muttered Sakura, as she blinked and shook her head like Itachi's drawing had hypnotised her.  “You're fantastic at kicking Naruto's arse at Halo despite your hatred of it.”

Sasuke cracked a smile that wasn't really a smile and drawled, “Duh.  That's because he fails at life.”

He hung up the charcoal drawing, right in the middle of his two televisions so he could look at it, before he returned to the game, and continuously glanced at it anyway.

***

Itachi threw his satchel on his bed and sat down primly on the edge of his bed.

Then he flopped backwards ungracefully, letting his lower legs and feet dangle off the edge.

He was so unbelievably exhausted that it almost was too much to even breathe.  He wasn't tired, per se, because his eyes weren't itchy and fighting to close, but completely wiped out to the point where he couldn't even bring it in himself to move.

It had been weeks upon weeks of sleepless nights due to his raging and unfathomable inspiration to _create_ , the inability to sleep due to dreams that were almost nightmares and yet were not, trying to cram in school-work through his sleep deprivation and artistic motivation, and an intense but ridiculous fear that ANBU operatives were going to kill him in his sleep just for speaking to one of their captains simply because he knew too much or something.  It was starting to wear on him, even his family members noticing, and now he was lying there on his bed after talking with his father about just that — “ _Are you feeling alright, Itachi?  The whole family has noticed that you haven't been sleeping...if you think that maybe you should take you to a doctor, just in case, all you have to do is give us the word._ ”

His father had good intentions usually.  He appreciated the gesture at any rate.

He was fine though.  He was just consumed by thoughts that didn't seem to want to leave him alone, and now he was suffering the side effects in his current disposition.  He was exhausted, and people were starting to notice.  At the rate he was going, he was going to end up catching the eye of the press, or God forbid the Clan Heads, and he didn't need the questions.

What would he even tell then anyway?  ' _Well, I met this ANBU captain at the Prime Minister's political fund-raiser.  Not only did he speak to me, which is highly unusual, he also engaged me in a discussion concerning right and wrong, and now I can't stop thinking about everything he said, or what I said, or what I felt.  The fear, the clarification...you should have felt that.  It was consuming, his words and voice.  I felt terrified._ '

The doodles on the hotel stationary that he had created before the conversation were now hanging up on his walls in the studio.  Just looking at them reminded him of that utter fright that he had felt with that ANBU in his personal space while Itachi yelled in his face, as if trying to convince the captain that he was evil.  He knew that the ANBU wouldn't have harmed him without permission from the Emperor, but it might've signed his death warrant.

He knew that his fanatic impulse to creativity was part of expressing everything that he had felt in that moment, but he wasn't sure if the sleeplessness was from the experience as well or if it was because he was afraid said ANBU would slip through his window one night and kill him brutally for his brother to find.

There was a light knock on the door, but Itachi simply wasn't in the mood to speak to Sasuke at the moment.  He closed his eyes and continued to breathe steadily, feigning sleep, and when his baby brother came into his room quietly, Itachi wasn't disturbed.  The perks of having a severe bout of insomnia — no forcing irritating conversation that would take more energy than Itachi had at the moment.  Sasuke would allow him to sleep, or fake sleep if he wasn't stupid (which he wasn't, but stranger things had happened).

Then Sasuke surprised him as a weight settled on the bed next to him.  He felt the fabric of his decorative throw being tossed over his body and the warmth of Sasuke's body curling next to his, and Itachi felt no shame or qualms in curling into his brother as a child would do to its mother.  If the ANBU came into Itachi's room when he slept, then maybe he would have mercy and not kill him with his brother in the room, for it probably would've destroyed Sasuke to wake up to such a sight.

Then again, the captain had been ANBU after all; he probably wouldn't care if Sasuke bathed in blood or not.

Regardless, Itachi drifted off, feeling safe and content, and didn't wake up until his alarm went off for school the next day, his brother still beside him.

***

Sasuke loved maths.

He didn't particularly like getting interrupted in class, especially _during_ said mathematics class, and Sakura was starting to drive him crazy for doing just that.

“ _Psst_ ,” she hissed again, nudging her foot against the leg of his desk for the umpteenth time.  It shook his desk lightly, not enough to distract the teacher but enough that it made Sasuke mess up on writing the number four.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to acknowledge her or the note that she had flung on his desk fifteen minutes ago.  Fifteen minutes of Sakura being a nuisance because she wanted him to read that note pretty damn badly.  Unfortunately, his Uchiha pride had firmly stated that he was not giving into her, and thus he was getting increasingly frustrated and annoyed as she continued to pester him.  Surely she knew by now that he was too stubborn to give into annoyance.

He left it on the desk when the bell rang, ending the school day, so Sakura grabbed it and opened it. He continued walking out of the room, working on finding Itachi in the bumbling mess of the school hallways, despite the fact that Sakura kept thrusting the opened note in front of his face.  He still refused to read it, since he was already irritated by this point.  If it was _that_ important, she would come out and say it.

It took her five minutes to actually do it though.

He hadn't found Itachi yet, starting to get a bit freaked out because they _always_ met in front of Iruka-sensei's English language classroom after the final bell rang.  He was looking up and down the hallways quickly, trying to see that thin form with a face rather similar to Sasuke's own coming towards him, and finally Sakura just groaned with exasperation and threw her arms up in the air.

“For Christ's sake, Sasuke-kun, if you weren't so prideful you would've read my note and you wouldn't be floundering around like a dumbarse waiting for Itachi-san.”

Sasuke _glared_ , silently demanding answers.

Sakura rolled beryl green eyes and drawled with poorly hidden amusement, “Itachi got picked up today.  He's been gone since second period.”

Sasuke's eyes narrowed but he didn't shake Sakura and demand explanation.  He figured that he'd be in some tight shit if the school seen him do that to a girl.  Naruto maybe, but not Sakura.  Everyone was used to Naruto getting whailed on, but Sasuke couldn't do it to Sakura.  She was one of the ones doing the most whailing anyway, especially to Naruto, and he didn't want to ruin the motivation that fuelled such actions.

Besides, he didn't hit girls anyway.

She sighed, giving up, and replied back evenly, “Your mother picked him up.  Not sure why, but Itachi apparently was just as confused as you seemingly are.  If you kept up with school buzzing, then you would've heard it through the grape vine.”

Sasuke frowned heavily.  Itachi hadn't any doctor appointments or meetings to attend, or he would've mentioned it to Sasuke.  Maybe their mother _had_ taken Itachi to the doctor out of the blue, considering how thin and exhausted Itachi had been looking.  They were all worried, and he wouldn't have put it past Uchiha Mikoto to pull such a stunt even on her own accord.

He pulled out his phone and shot Itachi a quick text, even though Itachi's phone was probably glued on a canvas and painted upon in one of his brother's art projects.  Or something along those lines.  He might've just thrown it off his balcony and called it a day too.  He had done that before, only with a computer. Itachi hated technology about as much as Sasuke hated Windows, which was to say that the hatred was well-known and intense. Therefore, Itachi not answering the text or the phone call that he followed it with was expected, but still disappointing.

“Goddamnit,” Sasuke muttered, and followed Sakura out of the school building.

He gave his phone to Sakura outside of the building and she called his mother for him, giving him time to avoid Naruto and Kiba's antics and climb into his car.  The other three piled in after him, the two boys loud and obnoxious like usual as they argued about whether or not Anko-sensei was a demon from hell (Naruto) or a _hot_ demon from hell (Kiba).

Sakura hung up, shrugged at Sasuke, and then called again immediately afterwards as Sasuke pulled out of the school parking lot, mindful of the numbskulls that would possibly smash into his beloved Audi.  The Uchiha abode was a good twenty-five minute drive from the private school and he didn't feel like calling someone to pick them up should some idiot crash into his baby.  The wait would've been ridiculous, and he was ready to game.

Although at that moment he was too worried about Itachi for anything else to really matter.

He made his way to the interstate after thankfully not getting into an accident, accelerating and zoning out.  Absently he could hear Kiba and Naruto's conversation change from their crazy phys-ed instructor's busty assets to the rumoured new Elder Scrolls beta that was supposed to be a full-scale MMORPG.

Then to his left: “Oh, hello Uchiha-sama!”

Sasuke's head whipped towards the girl in the passenger seat, neck cracking loudly despite the boisterous chatting in the back-seat.  His dark eyes took in her bright smile as she listened to Sasuke's mother reply a greeting, smiling slightly himself in amusement.  At least his mother liked her, and the others too, even if she wasn't a huge fan of that Chōji kid (he ate a lot, and while the Uchiha household wasn't hurting for money, it was still daunting to watch as an entirely stocked pantry was gradually emptied by Chōji alone, especially when there were other people that were there too).

“Yeah, he was looking for Itachi.  Guess the memo didn't get relayed because he was runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off,” Sakura said with a laugh, winking at Sasuke.  He rolled his eyes, focussing back on the traffic on the road as he heard his mother answer back.  He couldn't exactly hear what was said, but one-sided conversations could be endlessly amusing and so he just settled in the driver's seat and listened in.

“I know, Uchiha-sama, he's definitely the over-protective type.”  Sasuke rolled his eyes again at that, a bit exasperated.  So what if he _was_ a bit over-protective?  It wasn't like Itachi pulled any stops on Sasuke himself, so what was the difference?  Besides, Sasuke was _allowed_ to be over-protective, because bad things happened to people like Itachi.  He had the shittiest luck when it came to arseholes, especially the ones that had a problem with gay people.  It wasn't like it was a secret, since all of the business magazines had had a field day when Itachi's sexual preferences had finally come to light two years back — some people couldn't get the hint that the world was changing for the better.

And then there was the whole _Itachi-will-probably-get-sick-again_ thing, but that was beside the point.

“Anyway, just because he's glaring at me like a boss, I'll ask where Itachi is, if that's okay with you Uchiha-sama,” Sakura said, winking playfully at Sasuke again, and the two idiots in the back-seat snickered.  Why had he brought them with?  They were the most annoying people at the entire school, so willingly allowing himself to be subjected to such stupidity was clearly masochistic.  Was he masochistic?

“Took him to the doctor, you hear that Sasuke- _kun_?”

Sasuke glare increased ten-fold but Sakura seemed to be completely immune to it.  Irritatingly.

It took his mind off the stab of anxiety in his entire body.  Sasuke had figured as much, because there was no way that Itachi would've been taken out of school just for shits and giggles.  Taking him to a spontaneous doctor's appointment was pretty much one of the only explanations for the ordeal.  But...

Sasuke went to open his mouth but Sakura asked the question before he could vocalise it: “Sasuke wants to know when you guys'll be home.”

“Wow, you guys aren't even dating and she's got you pegged, bastard,” laughed Naruto, and Sasuke gritted his teeth.  He didn't have to say anything in the end though, because Sasuke was driving and Sakura was apparently more than happy to deck out some pain for the both of them.

Sakura said sweetly, “Please hold, Uchiha-sama.”  Sasuke's mother said something into the cell and Sakura laid it gently in one of the cup holders in reply before quite literally _launching_ herself at the two idiots chortling in the back-seat.

There was a moment where Sasuke swerved in shock, because who in their right mind did shit like that, before he forced himself to ignore the foot that was trying to kick him in the face unconsciously.  There was screaming in the back-seat as Kiba and Naruto begged for forgiveness, and Sasuke couldn't keep himself from bursting out in a loud, barking laugh.  He didn't laugh like that often, but he was just so fucking _amused_ by these crazy people he surrounded himself with.

Eventually Sakura stopped and returned to her seat, pushing her hair back with her palm without much care to how it looked (which was rather messed up by that point, and not in the most attractive way, Sasuke was amused to note).  She picked up the phone and cleared her throat before saying with triumph in her voice, “Sorry 'bout that, Uchiha-sama.  I had to deal with the two annoying punks in the back-seat.”  There was laughter in the background and then Sasuke's mother spoke quickly, in which Sakura replied, “We're on our way back to your home, Mikoto-san, and I'll let Sasuke-kun know.  See you when you get back, ma'am!”

His mother replied back and Sakura soon hung up, grinning cheekily at Sasuke.  The only thing, though, that he really cared about was the obvious: “So when?”

“They'll be back late this evening.  Apparently she's taking him to dinner and they're seeing a show together.  Mother-son bonding, I guess.  Anyway, she said they'd be back late and that everything was all clear, whatever that means.” Her eyes grew concerned and even the boys in the back grew quiet when Sasuke practically folded in on himself, slowing the vehicle down and pulling to the shoulder of the road before letting a deep sigh of relief seep from his very bones.  He had been so fucking _terrified_ for Itachi, wondering if he was malignant again, if his body was yet again trying to kill itself, and Itachi was just refusing to admit that it was a possibility instead of going to the doctor to check it out.

Sasuke's elbows rested on the steering column and he buried his face in his palms.

It had to have been only a preliminary diagnosis that Itachi wasn't sick though.  Blood tests didn't cut it completely if it wasn't advanced enough, and for a complete diagnosis he would need a bone marrow biopsy anyway.  Maybe it hadn't been clear enough in the preliminary.  There was still a chance that the cancer was back and it just hadn't progressed enough for it to be visible in their particular test sample.  Then again, if it was back and it was just that early, it was a good sign, and there was a lot of hope in that regard.

“You okay?” asked Naruto, remarkably quiet for once.

Sasuke shook himself visibly and lifted his head up, smiling tightly at his friends.  Not that he'd ever admit to being friends with the weirdos, but whatever.  “Yeah, I'm good.  I'll be better when we get back.  I'm fucking starving.”

They drove back, Kiba and Naruto laughing boisterously in the back while Sakura alternated between smacking them and glancing at Sasuke with narrowed eyes when she thought he wasn't looking.

Like he didn't notice that shit.

Half an hour later, they pulled into the driveway of the Uchiha abode and piled out of the Audi, intent on finding the kitchen.  Sasuke and Sakura walked side-by-side at a leisurely pace, watching the two idiots bolt through the hallways with casual familiarity straight to the food.  When the weirdos had turned a corner and disappeared from view, Sakura grabbed his arm lightly and held him back.

“You alright, Sasuke?” she asked, and it was kind of relieving that the honorific was omitted. She gazed at him with beryl green eyes, lips turned in a frown, and he sighed.

“I'm fine.  I've just been a bit stressed lately,” he replied a bit lamely.

“About your brother?” she pressed, and pulled her hand away from his arm when she realised he wasn't going to book it like a beast or something.  He was thankful for it, even if he kept himself quiet, and he looked up at the ceiling as he wondered how to answer her question.  He barely knew the girl, and he wasn't very open to anyone except Itachi, really.

He found himself saying, “Yeah, I guess.  It doesn't matter.  Mother said that everything was fine, so there's nothing to worry about.”

“Well, you wouldn't be the over-protective brother if you didn't worry, Sasuke,” she said with a playful wink, in which he snorted at against his will.  She continued quietly with a small grin playing on her features, “And besides, it's your job.  Teasing aside, I think it's cool how close you two are.  I don't have any siblings, so I kind of envy you.  If I was Itachi, I'd be...well, irritated that you got bent out of shape about me—”  Sasuke raised an eyebrow, not sure whether or not to glare or roll his eyes.  “—but I'd be kind of pleased too, knowing someone cared enough _to_ get all bent out of shape about me.”  She paused and then said in amusement, “Then again, I'm not your brother, and maybe he thinks differently, but at any rate, don't worry about it.  Just...if you ever need someone to rant to, my ears are open.  Although if you're being a dumbarse, I will call you out on it.”

Sasuke gave into the urge to roll his eyes, but his own grin was beginning to creep upon his lips. “C'mon, _woman,”_ he said sarcastically, pleased when she didn't immediately take offence and all that jazz that girls tended to go demon over.  “Let's go make sure the idiots haven't trashed the kitchen.”

She laughed, and they walked towards the kitchen in a comfortable silence.

***

Itachi's forehead grew cool as he laid it against the chilled glass of the car window.

The anaesthetic from his bone marrow biopsy and aspiration had worn off by then, leaving him rather sore and unable to sit fully in the vehicle due to discomfort.  He had painkillers, and the good ones too — Oxycontin, of which he wouldn't take any — but he ignored them.  He wasn't going to get started on that rubbish; he'd be fine on his own free will.

They, being his mother and himself, were heading back to the house, silent against the gentle hum of the Bentley.  It was a comfortable silence, one that Itachi was well used to in the company of Mikoto, and it didn't bother either of them.  They didn't have to speak at every moment for there to be conversation, for there to be comfort and contentment.  They were perfectly fine just sitting there in silence, listening to the purr of the engine and the sound of traffic while watching the city of Konohagakure in its night-time glory pass by.

He could feel that his mother had things to say but didn't really want to break the moment.  It was peaceful, knowing that there was a good chance that the cancer wasn't back (at least in a noticeable way, which was what the bone marrow aspiration and biopsy were for), and they were still revelling in the light dinner and the art show she had taken him to.  It had been a lovely night out, despite being stabbed with a needle much thicker than pencil led.  Or about the same size as one of those coffee stirring sticks that one got at coffee shops or hotels.

He wasn't really sure if he could answer her.  He already knew what she was worried about, since now she couldn't place his insomnia and poor eating schedule on perhaps being sick again.  Now she knew that there was something else bothering him, and he wasn't sure how to explain it.  How did one explain the terror of a near-death experience to their mother?  She would only freak out, as all good mothers did.

Besides, Itachi had given his word to keep the secret of the ANBU speaking to him, and Uchiha Itachi kept his word.

Then again, it was only based on the ANBU keeping his name away from superiors like the Emperor, even though he was required by law of duty to report every minuscule detail to said Emperor...or recruiters — again, Itachi heard the captain's voice say in his head, _'Says the previous heir to the Uchiha legacy, who clearly has all of the markers for an excellent ANBU operative if he could work a bit harder on masking his genuflection,'_ followed by _'You really would make a good ANBU, you know,'_ and fought a shudder of foreboding that threatened to wrack his body.

Not like he'd ever be cleared to work with ANBU anyway.  He was a queer, vegan pacifist that was going to be fighting off a persistent form of cancer for the rest of his (most likely to be short) life.  He was in excellent physical shape but he was still a walking liability for such a shady government organisation.

He had to say something though, before she drove herself mad with worry.

“Mother,” he said softly, bespectacled eyes taking in the view of Konohagakure's eastern outskirts, hosting the more wealthy of its population.  His forehead was beginning to go numb with the chill.  “I'm okay.  I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all.”

From the reflection on the window, he watched his mother turn her head towards him quickly before focussing back on the road, her face quite unreadable.  Itachi had learnt a lot from the woman over the years, including how beneficial it was to not be an open book with emotions, but at that moment Itachi wished that he knew what she was thinking, if only so he could appease her more easily.

Then again, they were very open with each other, although not nearly along the level as Sasuke and Itachi were, so he wasn't surprised when she asked, “Is it school? The move?”  A small hesitation, and then she continued, “A boy?”

Itachi blinked.

A boy?  If by 'boy' she meant 'man with a porcelain mask that kills and tortures people for a living', then perhaps she was correct, but not how she was probably thinking.

Which, obviously, he wasn't going to tell her.

But he wasn't going to lie to his mother.  He'd lie to Fugaku to get the man off his back and pacified, and he'd lie to his other family members simply because he didn't trust the bastards, and he'd lie to the few friends he had because they didn't need to know every detail of his private life, and he'd lie to Sasuke just to save him from knowing some of the things that would hurt him emotionally or mentally, but he couldn't lie to his mother.  Not only would she be able to tell immediately, like all mothers could, but he would feel absolutely terrible about it.  He hated lying quite frankly, and always felt guilty and ashamed after the fact, something he'd prefer to avoid.

Quietly, and with a bit of hesitation on his own part, he admitted, “When we were at that fund-raiser, I broke away from the group.  An ANBU followed me and it sort-of shook me up.  I know it's their job to watch us during those things, but I get to thinking about what they do for a living and not being able to see their faces and not knowing if they're staring at me or not...it just puts me at unease.  This one was just...I don't know.  Different.  He stood against the window with that mask towards the window, maybe watching the traffic, and it just...”

“It was what, Itachi?” his mother asked gently, coaxing him.

Itachi sighed, uncharacteristically, and replied softly, “I was terrified.  Maybe he had followed me to kill me.  Maybe he was thinking about ways to do it.  Maybe he wanted to just because he was a crazy psychopath. But he...”  Itachi trailed off, and the silence was a bit more tense, mostly on his own part rather than his mother's.  Mikoto simply continued driving, not saying a word as if aware that he would come to words himself when he could express himself properly.

They silence stretched, Itachi bringing a hand to his lips absently, picking at the skin there.  It was a nasty habit, but the mindless thought of it as well as the sting that accompanied was a familiar comfort that helped with the swirl of thoughts and emotions that festered in his brain.  He hated how it looked afterwards though, hated how sometimes the blood stained his fingertips when he got carried away, hated how he didn't — _couldn't_ — stop.

“He was beautiful,” Itachi whispered.  “What he looked like while he stared at the window, with all of the lights on his white cloak and his mask all lit up...it was gorgeous, Mother.  I can't stop feeling afraid, but I can't stop _drawing_ , and I know it's starting to scare you and Father and Sasuke but I'm really fine.  I just can't get it out of my head.  I need some time to process it, to get it out of my system I reckon, and forgive me for worrying you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Itachi,” his mother scolded.  “You just need to talk to us, so we aren't thinking you're being stubborn about medical attention. We saw that you weren't sleeping, that you weren't eating, and it was the same during the months before your diagnosis.  You have to talk to us Itachi, because we worry about you having a relapse and we don't want to catch it late if it does happen.”

Which it would happen, whether early or late, but neither of them corrected Mikoto's statement. That was the thing with cancer: a person got it once, fought it off, went a few months or years in remission, and then got it again even worse, until suddenly, after maybe years of fighting or possibly just months, it was suddenly giving the bird to chemotherapy and making cancer babies in every part of that person's body until they died, painfully and after millions of pounds being pushed through the system for treatment.

Itachi was going to die from it eventually, unless he got murdered by ANBU or ran over by a bus or something.  He had come to terms with it.

His family hadn't.  They were nearing almost a billion pounds spent on cancer research ever since Itachi's initial diagnosis, after all.  He didn't hate the idea, because millions of people would benefit from it in the future, but it was still...almost amusing to him to hear that his parents were trying to buy the cure in his (most likely short) life.

“I didn't mean to worry you. I just didn't think, Mother,” he murmured, his glasses bumping rhythmically against the glass window as his forehead chilled.  He felt a sharp bite of pain and he pulled his hand away sharply, glancing downwards to see a slight smear of red upon his fingertips and in his nails.  He sucked on his bottom lip in response, vaguely tasting the metallic tang of his own blood as he tried to clear it away.  The sting was comforting, just like always, but he curled his hand into a light fist so his mother didn't see the evidence of his habit.

They pulled onto their road and drove a few more kilometres down before she pulled into the long driveway.  They didn't comment on his apology, instead focussing on parking the vehicle in the garage and gathering all of their things. Itachi gingerly stepped out of the vehicle, a hint of a smile on his face when his mother took his satchel and flung it on her shoulder. He grabbed the little baubles that they had splurged on at the show before closing the door stiffly, following his mother out of the garage and into the hallway.  They both walked up to Itachi's room quietly, passing by Sasuke's game room without calling out, and when they both entered Itachi's studio, she placed his bag on the chair.

“I'm glad you're okay, Itachi,” she said, pulling him into a hesitant hug.  Itachi stiffened slightly and perhaps a bit guiltily, both of them not used to the display of affection.  His mother was a lot like him, very guarded with her actions and emotions, so it was rare for either one of them to do such a thing.  Itachi closed his eyes tightly, knowing that he was at fault for her worry, and returned it awkwardly, wrapping his arms around his mother's upper back.

They broke apart and his mother cupped her hands around Itachi's cheeks.  “You can talk to me whenever, or even to Sasuke.  I know it can be hard to talk to your father but he's always there, you know, whenever you need him.  If you just need someone to sit in the corner and be there, you just have to ask, Itachi.  Don't forget that, okay?”  Her dark eyes darted back and forth between the two of his bespectacled ones, framed by glasses, as if checking for any sort of emotion.

Itachi nodded once, still maintaining contact, and his mother smiled lightly.  “Okay, Itachi,” she said, stepping back and beginning to walk towards the exit.  “Would you like me to poke my head in to Sasuke's room?”

Itachi shook his head, amused. “No, he'll figure it out eventually.  Besides, he might think that you're finally enforcing a bed-time or something.”

“Oh I would never do that.  As long as you get good grades and don't neglect your health, I don't think we should harp on you too much,” she responded airily.

Itachi fought the urge to roll his eyes and answered, “I'll make sure to get some sleep then.”

Mikoto shot him a mischievous smirk, eyes sparkling, and said, “Good night, my lovely.”

“Good night, Mother,” he replied.

Mercifully alone.

***

Sasuke jolted awake, blearily looking at his surroundings.

Sakura was the first thing he laid eyes on, eyes closed and flickering behind her thin eyelids as she dreamed, petal pink hair lightly falling into her face.  She was laying on the couch, her bare toes very nearly touching him from his position on the other side and her arms curled into her chest.

Sasuke smiled, watching the repeating title screen colours of Halo: Wars reflect onto her pale skin, before he blinked slowly and pushed himself up.  He didn't rustle around too much, stepping around the boys on the floor until he walked out of his game room and down the hallway leading to Itachi's room.  He had been checking every hour on the hour for his brother to turn up, not expecting him to go out of his way to say hello, but at around midnight he had passed out rather lamely.

He dragged his body towards Itachi's room, if only to check on him, when he heard a loud bang come from the art studio.

He rolled his eyes with a light grin and pushed open the door, where Itachi was in the corner of the room, earbuds in his ears and curled up not unlike Sakura in the other room.  He was fast asleep on that L-shaped couch that was pretty much ruined with paint by that point, and Sasuke laughed quietly in amusement.  He hadn't even gotten out of his shoes or even touched his paint before he had laid down, apparently slipping into unconsciousness immediately.  Perhaps the stress of it all had finally caught up to him now that he had clear proof that the cancer wasn't back.

More than likely it was the after-affects of the sedatives, Sasuke reckoned, noting that he hadn't even woken up when the precarious stack of bowls and paintbrushes had fallen over, despite the music.

He grasped a throw from the back of Itachi's couch and draped it over his brother's body before returning to the game room and returning to his favourite seat of the couch.

He fell asleep moments later.


	5. Darkness and Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Five  
 _Darkness and Acceptance  
_ -  
“The past exists only in our memories, the future only in our plans.  The present is our only reality.”  
 _Robert Pirsig_

 

It wasn't often when the monotony of the Uchiha household was broken.

Most days, the home started trickling with conscious life around five or so in the morning, when Fugaku would begin his process of waking up.  Itachi knew this because the smell of coffee brewing at precisely six o'clock would permeate the house despite its size and it would rouse him from sleep, and it always took his father around an hour to kiss his wife good morning, shower, and finish his routine.  Itachi himself would toss and turn for a few moments after smelling the coffee, stretching languidly in his comfortable bed, before trudging up himself and going towards his attached bathroom.  He would spend twenty minutes in the shower himself, letting the steaming water wake him up fully, before he would force himself out, putting his glasses on his face and dressing in the school uniform.  He would let his hair air dry as he went downstairs towards the smell of coffee, passing a sleeping Sasuke in his room (or in his game room, sometimes with a few friends equally unconscious even though it wasn't as common) before joining his father in the kitchen.  They would sit down in a slightly awkward silence, both of them sipping their coffees — black as pitch for Fugaku, non-dairy creamer for Itachi only — as Itachi made a simple breakfast of whole wheat toast and grapefruit or perhaps even simply an apple.  He would eat his breakfast while doodling absently with his right hand, which usually turned out to be atrocious since he was left-handed, but he liked the unpredictability.  Eventually he would finish, put his dishes in the washer, then head upstairs to throw his lightly damp hair into a low ponytail, sitting quietly on Sasuke's bed as the kid flew around like a bat out of hell because of sleeping too late.

Then there would be school.  He would breeze through the day, always paying diligent attention to keep his grades impeccable while daydreaming and keeping to himself. He knew his brother was in his own classes, texting and joking with friends as he tried to ignore the day away while scoring highly on all of his courses.  His father would be at work at this point, running the Uchiha business diligently as his doting wife would go out with girlfriends to shows or shopping or for tea with some of the clan wives.

Then they would all find their way home.  Sasuke and Itachi were always first, since they drove together, and they would usually have a car full with them.  Sakura and Naruto both were usually present, and Shikamaru more often than not, but Sasuke and his friends would always tumble in loudly while Itachi trailed behind, usually finding himself disappearing into the back garden to do his homework until he heard his mother pull up. She would drop of her bags, check on Sasuke and the others, before coming outside in her sundress and joining him on the grass amongst the weeping willows.  They didn't speak about many things, usually just being together in silence, before Itachi would finish his homework and they would both make their way back to the house. Itachi would leave then, out of his uniform and to the neighbourhood gym so he could swim a bit and flip around if he simply wanted to. By the time he came back, two or so hours later, his father would be just pulling up, looking tired but smiling at Itachi as they both sat down together at the table again, waiting for dinner to be finished. Usually it was Mikoto and Sasuke in the kitchen, both of them throwing things together as they laughed, before they would all sit down at the table as a family (with assorted guests, if Sakura or Naruto were still over, although the latter not so much).

After dinner, Fugaku and Itachi would clean up Sasuke and Mikoto's mess in the kitchen.  They wouldn't speak of anything deep, mostly pertaining to school and Fugaku's work, while they slowly but surely broke past the barrier that divided their lives from one another.  Fugaku would speak about how idiotic the board was, or the implications of a new self-mutating code that the firm was designing, and Itachi would talk about colours and their meanings, or the crazy kid at school that screamed of dynamic youth, or about what he had done at the gym that day.  Sasuke would watch television with their mother, sometimes with Sakura curled up on the couch as she threw popcorn lazily at the back of Sasuke's head, and when the kitchen was cleaned up, Fugaku and Itachi would join them with yet another cup of coffee in their hands. Sakura usually joined Itachi on one of the couches, murmuring quietly about pencil strokes and the advantages of smudging while they both doodled absently, Sakura with her right hand and Itachi with his left while both of them bumped into each other because of it.  When this happened, Sasuke would catch Itachi's eyes and smile, with his eyes sparkling and entire face alight, before he would hold Mikoto's hand and continue to watch the useless show.

Then they would retire.  Usually Sakura would leave for home, Sasuke giving her a ride back to town while Fugaku and Mikoto gave all three of them good night wishes. Mikoto would kiss Sakura on the cheek when they left, inviting her over again soon even though they all knew she'd be back the next day. Itachi would hug his mother good night and touch his father lightly upon the arm in farewell before he would wave absently to his brother and Sakura, eventually slipping away into the corner of the house that he called his.  He would disappear into his art studio, where he would draw and create or simply listen to music and stare out the window when the inspiration hadn't struck, wasting away the hours until it was nearing midnight and the house slept.  He would then go to the washroom, brush his hair and teeth, and then relax in his bed until sleep took him away.

And the whole process would repeat.

He loved the order of it, the structure of it.  How it never grew boring because they were all content with their lives.  He loved that he could always depend on it, no matter what, and that in the last days of being bound to his family he could have that familiarity between them, proving that they were close despite expectations against them.

So it wasn't often when the monotony of the Uchiha household was broken, but when it was, it usually threw everything off until the next day and rightful order could be restored.

Standing in the hallway by himself after his trip to the gym, clad in a pair of baggy sweat pants and a slim long-sleeved shirt, he stared.  His hair was still damp from the rain outside and the chlorine of the pool, falling loosely around his narrow shoulders despite the chill, but he didn't even comprehend it.

He probably looked like a pale, drowned rat, honestly, and why did that even matter anyway?

Itachi shut the door quietly and said in a low tone, “I'm starting to think that you're following me, ANBU-sama.”

He recognised the white cloak, the distinctive porcelain mask, the posture that spoke of confidence but perhaps a bit of laziness.  He recognised the way that the ANBU faced away from him towards the big bay windows but still seemed to be staring at him nonetheless, arms crossed over his chest.

As expected, the masked man didn't reply.  For a fleeting second he wondered if it was a different ANBU captain and he was simply making a fool of himself through the throb of fear that whistled in his blood, but then the ANBU lifted up a gloved hand and wagged his index finger side-to-side almost sardonically.  Clearly amused, and Itachi most definitely recognised _that_.

Itachi raised an eyebrow and fought the urge to shudder.

He thought about turning the other way and running until he collapsed, because if there was one ANBU then there were more roaming and _in his home for fuck's sake_ , but he knew that the ANBU would catch him not even a metre out of the door.  Then he'd just look guilty, not scared out of his wits despite some freaky camaraderie with the ANBU in front of him.

Instead, he made his way through the house, keeping a wide berth from the ANBU captain against his wall, and almost sighed in relief when the captain didn't follow. Not that it mattered, because he passed by one more as he made his way to the kitchen as usual.  There were voices ahead, one of them belonging to Fugaku and the other vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until he walked into the kitchen that he placed it to Namikaze Minato.

He paused for a second, wondering if he was even allowed inside of the room, before the blond-haired Prime Minister laughed brightly and said, “C'mon in,  
Itachi!”  Itachi felt a brief stab of panic that Minato knew his name, wondering what the ANBU had told him, before he did a mental facepalm and realised that pretty much everyone knew his name in the circles.  Even if he wasn't the heir to the clan, he had been at one point, and business magazines loved telling his 'fallen status' story when they had reason.  “We're just talking in here.  Feel free to come and go as you please, and don't mind me.  I'm just here for the coffee.”

Fugaku rolled his eyes with a bit of exasperation, but Itachi could see the amusement in his body language.  Minato seemed to see it as well, because he laughed brightly and raised his cup for an invisible toast before taking a long swallow, throwing a good-natured wink in Fugaku's direction.

Itachi filled up his water bottle and placed it in the refrigerator, feeling awkward as if he was interrupting something important as well as flighty at the sight of two ANBU operatives seemingly staring at him.  He grabbed an orange before closing the door just as the Prime Minister spoke brightly, “Anyway, I think the whole thing's idiotic and I would appreciate your help with it.  Having the Uchiha clan backing such a controversial standpoint would be—”

Itachi left just as Minato got into it, not really trying to eavesdrop on the conversation that was clearly about politics, something that Itachi didn't much care for. He closed the door gently behind him, snuffing out the voices into a murmur that Itachi couldn't understand, and then passed by the ANBU that was standing guard outside of the kitchen.  He quickly made his way upstairs towards his section of the house as he munched absently on orange slices, jittery with nerves and trying to keep it toned down.  He pointedly avoided or ignored the details that were littered about the house.

Itachi poked his head into Sasuke's room, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he saw Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto all squeezed together on the couch, Naruto complaining loudly as Sakura walked a cat-like creature to a door that hissed about passwords.  He watched as Sasuke rolled his eyes and pushed Naruto off the couch, saying with irritation, “She can do whatever she wants with the Brotherhood, moron.  She's a thousand times better at this game than you are.”

“She hasn't even joined the Mage's Guild yet, arsehole,” Naruto shot back, clearly disgruntled at the treatment of Itachi's brother.  “And she's barely even made it to level ten yet.”

“Because I've beaten the game twelve times and I'm gearing towards a thirteenth, Naruto,” Sakura mumbled, not sounding too engaged in the conversation as she entered in a dark room of sorts with the cat character.

Itachi watched as Sasuke smirked at the pink-haired teen, and then blinked slowly when movement caught his eye.  Two ANBU stood in the corner, and this time Itachi was positive that they were watching him because their masks were trained directly in his direction.

Without acknowledging the arguing group in Sasuke's game room, Itachi turned around slowly and crept away, light as a feather.  He made his way down the hallway and entered his studio, throwing a quick glance around before closing the door behind him and locking it securely.  He was alone, but he didn't know for how long, since the ANBU were practically in every corner of the house, looking for anything that might threaten their leader.  He stood quietly beside the window, watching a few dark cloaked figures survey the grounds that the Uchiha family lived on, before he threw away the orange peels, turned to his couch, and threw his gym bag on the floor.  He sat down ungracefully, exhaling shakily with the sudden realisation that he had practically been hyperventilating on the entire way to his studio.

He took a few deep, calming breaths before he relaxed slightly against the multicoloured couch, laying his head down on the top of said couch lazily.  He could feel his hands shaking minutely and he focussed on calming down every muscle in his body, starting with his toes and then working his way slowly upwards until he felt almost too heavy in his body.  His eyes blinked slowly behind the glasses, and he took them off without much thought, watching the world go from clear to blurry in a split second.  All of the colours surrounding him blurred together, and it helped him relax his brain as he allowed time to pass.

All he had to do was wait until they left.  Surely the Prime Minister had other matters to attend to, and he had a wife to eat dinner with.  Perhaps he was just talking light political madness as he waited for Naruto to finish up, although Naruto hadn't looked like he was leaving any time soon. Perhaps he was just following up on something.  Nevertheless, the man had to leave soon, taking the ANBU — along with the captain that had been plaguing his thoughts and nightmares for weeks — with him. He couldn't stay here forever, after all. He sat there for what seemed like hours before he heard a rustle from his door.  He jolted to awareness instantly, pushing his glasses back on to see what was going on.  Surely the ANBU hadn't gotten in; he would've heard the lock being picked and the window was a full storey up if that had happened, and he hadn't no matter how zoned out he had been.  His brown eyes flickered to the doorway, feeling a pang of relief when he saw that it wasn't open nor was being picked.  The doorknob did not jitter up and down, nor was there any scratching or sounds of metal-on-metal.

His eyes caught sight of a sheet of paper lying innocently on the ground.

He stared at it for a long moment, wondering if he himself had actually dropped the paper when he had rushed in.  He knew that was absurd though, because he had only been carrying his closed gym bag and the clothes on his back, nothing more and nothing less.  Besides, the rustle had sounded like paper, and there was a crack in between the door and hardwood floor.

Itachi stood up hesitantly.

He moved towards the sink, washing his hands from the stickiness lethargically, his entire focus still on the paper that laid on the ground.  He ran his hands under the cold water until all the soap had disappeared into the drain, and then dried his hands slowly before he made up his mind.

He walked towards the paper, stopping right next to it and eyeing it warily.  He blinked, adjusted his glasses, and then squatted down, grasping the paper with his lightly stained hands.  Still crouched down, he took a deep breath and looked at it.

It was one the scribbles from the night of the fund-raiser.  Done in sloppy pen-work, it depicted something light, airy, almost buoyant in nature, something Itachi couldn't put a name to in human terms, and Itachi felt his heart skip a beat as he stared.  He remembered every piece he did when the manic inspiration struck, and he remembered his emotions when drawing the piece just as clearly at that moment.  He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, the sand and ocean on his bare feat, the wind on his face, the smell of the salt in the air, the sound of the waves cresting and the seagulls calling.  He could feel the peace around him, almost a hint of anticipation stirring in his blood as he knew that he was safe and protected and content with everything.

The picture itself looked nothing like the emotion behind it but Itachi could feel it regardless.  Not for the first time, he wondered if anyone else would be able to feel the phantom compilation of Itachi's mind just by looking at it.

Itachi shuddered, closing his eyes, before he shook himself visibly and stood back up, glancing at the door.  He sighed, bit his lip, and then reached out with his left hand and unlocked the door.

He walked away, still holding onto the drawing loosely as he made his way to the other side of the room.  He heard the door open behind him, and for the first time Itachi didn't feel a stab of fear.  Nervousness, perhaps, or maybe even apprehension, but not fear.  It was a stark contrast to the feeling he had had in the hallway just ten or so minutes previously, and he filtered that thought away in his mind for later dissection. He had other things to think about, to wonder, and he couldn't really afford to be distracted until he fully comprehended why he hadn't left the door locked.

He dug in a chaotic bin for a few push-pins as he said lightly, “When did you nick this off me, AMBU-sama?”

The door shut with a soft click, and Itachi could hear the captain's footsteps walking slowly behind him.  Almost absently, the ANBU said, “It was underneath the couch you had been sitting upon, just-Itachi.”

Itachi smiled.

He found a few push-pins and walked to the nearest wall, farthest away from the windows.  He put the picture up, careful not to puncture the drawing itself and instead holding it in place via the flat edges around it, and then stared at it once it was stationary.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

The ANBU didn't comment, and Itachi turned around towards the work station in the centre of the room, where a lot of his paints and stained-but-clean paintbrushes were.  He began uncapping a few small containers, squirting some of his own home-made paint onto a pallet until he had a few different colours that he could work with.  He grasped a few different sizes of brushes and then took it to the easel in the centre of the room, laying it down on the attached wooden table before turning towards the sink.  Avoiding a few bowls that were on the floor hazardously, he filled a glass cup halfway with water before grabbing a piece of thick paper from the shelves to the right.

He returned to his easel, setting up the paper as he glanced continuously at the ANBU near the window.  The dying sunlight cast shadows on the porcelain mask and the white cloak he wore, making his 'face' seem more shadowed beneath the hood.  With the lack of real fear clouding his senses and the presence of real light, he could see that his mask heavily resembled a canine creature instead of a feline, with delicate red lines outlining the eyes and mouth while decorating the cheeks boldly.

Itachi was vaguely curious as to what the ANBU's code was, what his compatriots knew him as.  Perhaps it wasn't important, but he reserved the right to curiosity.

He picked up a graphite pencil and began sketching, the hum of something in his blood keeping his left hand moving lightly over the textured paper.  Composite sketches were always the worst, because Itachi never really had an idea of what he was aching to draw in that moment and he was always more anxious to start with the colour of the paint.  His hand pushed the pencil continuously, without much mind as to what he was drawing, as he watched the ANBU diligently.

“We shouldn't intrude on your home for much longer,” he heard that masculine timbre say from the window, and he felt himself shudder.  It was nothing to note personally, because he was allowed to find the voice of the man behind the mask attractive, but a simmer of unease at the idea curled in his stomach anyway.  The captain continued, “We're just here as a security detail for the Prime Minister.  Except for a few of them, of course, who are in charge of Naruto-sama's well-being.”

Itachi's pencil paused before he forced himself to relax, and the pencil continued on once he the tension had released.  He hadn't really thought about Naruto having a detail following him around, but he knew it made sense.  Naruto was the Prime Minister' son, and despite the majority of the world supporting Namikaze Minato's reign, there were still a lot of nutjobs out there that would do anything to destroy the man.  Taking away his son and wife was probably one of the best ways to do that, and protecting his precious ones was top priority.  If Itachi had been in Minato's position, he would've had people following Sasuke and his parents around as well.

The idea that there had been ANBU surrounding the house and possibly even _inside_ without Itachi having realised it was daunting.

He didn't relay this to the captain, especially since the man was probably already aware due to the pause of Itachi's hand.  Instead, he said lightly, “I'm sure that the Minister has better things to worry about than a chat with my father.”

The captain turned towards the window, eliminating Itachi to any sight of the man's mask.  “Oh I dare say I disagree,” the ANBU replied.  “There are many things that are falling into place for the betterment of this country.  Your father and the Prime Minister have many things to talk about indeed.” He paused, and then added, “Although I'm sure that will take place outside of any home, and in the presence of the Emperor, may he live forever.”

Itachi, only mildly comforted by this fact, opened his mouth to reply but closed it when the ANBU lifted a hand to his ear and said out loud in an authoritative tone, “Get credentials and make sure they have reason for being here. Talk to the patriarch.”

The captain lowered his arm and turned once again to Itachi, explaining blankly, “Forgive the interruption.  You have a visitor coming down the drive.  I do believe it shouldn't be a problem but some of the younger operatives feel the need to get instruction for every move they make.”

Itachi hesitated before he said, “Of course.”

They continued in silence, the ANBU walking towards him as he felt his hand slow down on the drawing.  Itachi let his eyes focus on his preliminary creation, noting that it almost looked like one of the weeping willows that graced the Uchiha yard, but it was almost malicious-feeling instead of calming like Itachi felt when he reclined against the trunk of one.  It was wild at least, and Itachi blinked, suddenly forgetting about the other figure in the room as he dipped one of his paintbrushes into the black paint, swirling it absently in the green until he got the colour he wanted.

He began painting, sometimes following the sketch but mostly going over them and putting a new interpretation on the piece.  Things didn't need to be constrained inside of defined lines, and Itachi sometimes would even sketch something and a few days later would find that something completely different than originally intended would be on the piece instead.

“You're talented,” the captain murmured from beside him, and suddenly as if doused in hot water he could feel the man's presence beside him.  It was a heavy weight, not sinister but clearly _there_ , and Itachi felt his legs go a bit shaky at the feeling.  He pulled the paintbrush away from the paper, knowing that if he did fall then he didn't want the painting to be erred (even though oil was so easy to fix, it was still an inconvenience).

“Thank you,” he quietly replied, placing a hand on the corner of the easel to steady himself.

He breathed for a few moments, trying to still his racing heart and the pressure in his body, before he let go of the corner, confident that he wasn't either going to pass out or fall over.  He was pleased to find that his hand didn't quiver as he dipped the paintbrush into pure black paint, returning to the art itself.

This time he couldn't forget the cloaked figure beside him.  He was so close, and yet somehow too far away, looking over Itachi's shoulder as he worked.  Or perhaps he was just looking out of the window, because Itachi couldn't see the man's eyes through the eye-slits of the porcelain mask.  It was so much different than the last time he had been this close to Itachi, as the Uchiha had argued about right and wrong, because he wasn't feeling fear but instead complete fascination and apprehension.  It was thick and tangible, something Itachi could almost _feel_ in the air around him, and it made his skin erupt in goose-flesh.

He continued to paint, gradually becoming more comfortable with the presence beside him, and watched as the painting came to life.  It did, in fact, look more and more like a weeping willow, albeit dark and ominous, with darkness creeping off the page and chilling Itachi's blood.  He wondered what the ANBU felt when he looked at it, if he could sense Itachi's disquiet and swirling thoughts within the strokes.  He almost wanted to ask, but bit his tongue at the last second, because he didn't want to ask something so personal and he didn't think the ANBU would be honest anyway.

Quietly, he heard the captain lift his arm once again and say into his hidden mouthpiece, “Very well, pass for verification.”

“Can they hear us speaking?” Itachi heard himself ask faintly.

There was a beat of silence before the ANBU replied, “No.”  Itachi turned his head toward the ANBU and felt his eyes widen slightly when the hood was pushed back, revealing a head of silver hair that seemingly defied gravity and pale skin that Itachi could see behind the mask.  There seemed to be another mask underneath the porcelain one, hiding much more of his features than Itachi would've normally seen, but Itachi's attention was directed by the earpiece that was fit snugly into one pale ear, a small microphone reaching behind the porcelain mask.  “There is a feature that blocks out all speaking, for security purposes,” he continued, and Itachi could detect a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Don't want anyone knowing that you're taking to a civilian while in uniform,” Itachi mentioned off-handedly.

“Most definitely true,” the ANBU admitted.

Itachi went back to his painting as the captain took to walking around the room, looking at all of his paintings and drawings that were littered about on tabletops, easels, and the walls themselves.  Itachi felt almost self-conscious about the man looking at his pieces, art very personal to him even in their half-finished stages, but he didn't speak.  He allowed the man to take in everything, even thumbing through a few sketchbooks that were on the bookshelves, as he swirled the colours on his paper with his brush.

“Why did you even speak to me?” Itachi questioned carefully, trying to sound as if he wasn't vying for information.  But it was a legitimate question, because the man had broken sworn protocol to talk to Itachi, and the Uchiha didn't understand _why_ he had done such a thing.  If anyone found out, the result would be disastrous for the both of them.

The captain didn't reply back immediately, opting to continue his inspection on all of Itachi's artwork.  Eventually though, when Itachi had finally given the paintbrush itself up as a bad deal and went to using his fingers, he said, “I must say that I do not know.  Perhaps I didn't want to interrupt your inspiration that day, and now there's no point of keeping silent when the damage has been done.”

Itachi, with every fibre in his being, knew that he was lying, but just didn't know _how_.

Instead of interrogating the man, he simply answered in a whisper, “I'm glad you did.”

After a long pause of almost _comfortable_ silence, the captain looked over towards him and said quietly, “You can call me Crow, just-Itachi.”

Itachi tried to breathe but found he couldn't.

***

Sasuke bonked Naruto lightly on the back of his blond head in farewell.

Beside him, Itachi gave a light flick of his paint-covered fingers in goodbye, although Sasuke could see that his mind was clearly elsewhere.  Deciding to question him about it later, Sasuke grinned at Naruto and Sakura and followed them (and their entourage of ANBU) outside, where Minato was waiting with the car.  Itachi stayed close to the doorway, leaning up against one of the pillars that held up the upper storey of the house, and Sasuke followed his two friends into the drizzle.  He opened the door of Minato's Lexus for Sakura, sharing a quick hug before she climbed in and he shut the door behind her.

“See ya later, arsehole,” bid Naruto exuberantly.

“Peace, moron,” he returned with a smirk.

He ran back up towards Itachi and playfully flicked some of the rainwater running down his arm at him, laughing mischievously when Itachi frowned and pushed him back in the rain.  He rejoined him and didn't instigate the fight further, instead following his brother's line of sight to an ANBU that looked strangely familiar.  Well, as strangely familiar as a maskless murder could, anyway.

A metaphorical lightbulb flickered above Sasuke's head as he placed the mask and white cloak as the ANBU who had escorted Itachi back to the penthouse weeks ago, and Sasuke glared at the back of the ANBU captain's head in remembrance.  He wasn't sure what in the fuck that ANBU's problem was, but every time that prick showed up, Itachi always acted funny afterwards.  Then again, it was likely only the second time that Itachi had been in proximity of the captain, but even now Sasuke could see that his brother wasn't entirely there.

When their father had slipped back into the house and they were alone, Sasuke asked angrily, “Is he bothering you, Itachi?” The ANBU captain slipped into the passenger seat of the Lexus while the others went into cars in front and behind of said Lexus.  As they drove off, Sasuke returned a wave to Sakura and Naruto distractedly and then turned towards his brother.

Itachi was watching the cars drive away intently as if he hadn't heard Sasuke speak at all, his eyes focussed behind his glasses.  Sasuke reached out a damp hand and shook his shoulder lightly, causing his brother to twitch slightly and _finally_ look at him.

“Did you say something?” Itachi asked, and Sasuke gritted his teeth.

“I asked if that captain's bothering you!” Sasuke growled loudly, but then forced himself to relax when Itachi's eyes narrowed with confusion.  The only reason Sasuke even noticed the emotion behind it was because he knew Itachi so well, and he walked back into the rain and towards the garden to cool off a bit.

He felt Itachi follow him, and Sasuke nearly told him to go back inside, but he knew that Itachi wouldn't listen.  Sasuke thought about heading inside himself, simply so Itachi wouldn't catch a cold, but he couldn't bring himself to, heading towards the cluster of trees that surrounded a small fountain.  Not giving any thought to the saturated ground, he sat down on the grass at the base of a willow, the hanging branches deflecting a portion of the rain but not completely.  He rested his head against the bark and closed his eyes, feeling the cold droplets hit his face in a sporadic pattern.  If it started raining more heavily he would head inside, but for now it was fine.  He could deal with it and even loved the feeling of it.

Itachi took a seat beside him, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin upon them.  They sat together in companionable silence, gradually becoming more and more saturated with water, until Itachi said, “He's not bothering me.  He simply brought me back one of my drawings.”

Sasuke looked over at him in alarm.  “He's been snooping around in your studio?!” he exclaimed, his entire body tensing as he thought about it.  What in the fuck was that ANBU _doi_ —

“No, of course not,” Itachi dismissed, waving his hand absently to reinforce his statement.  “I broke away from the group at the fund-raiser and sketched a bit.  I left one of the papers behind and he returned it.”

Sasuke couldn't really comprehend that, and he said it too.  “Why would that freak do something like that?  They're all cold-blooded murderers, Itachi; they don't bring back lost doodles.”

It was a terrible thing to watch Itachi's face go _truly_ emotionless, because Itachi hadn't really closed himself off from Sasuke in a very long time.  Since the cancer and the chemo, actually.  It made Sasuke panic a bit and he hastily added, “I mean, obviously it's out of character of what everyone thinks of them, that's what I'm saying.  I don't really understand what's going on.”

Itachi glanced at him with dull brown eyes hidden behind rain-speckled glasses.  “I don't know either,” Itachi said with an uncharacteristic bite in his tone. “Perhaps it's because they're _human_ despite their profession of keeping this country and its people _safe._ ”

Itachi with actual inflection in his words was usually a bad thing.

Almost sarcastically, Sasuke said, “God, did you two have a heartfelt conversation about the good of the world or something?”

For a moment, Itachi didn't speak.  Sasuke frowned and opened his mouth to ask _why_ Itachi was hesitating, because surely that didn't happen because it was against the rules, when Itachi said quietly, “You don't have to speak to gain accord, Sasuke.  You just have to open your mind up to possibilities.”

Sasuke mulled that over for a long moment before he finally found his thoughts.  Instead of asking why Itachi's entire perception on ANBU had changed within the matter of weeks, he found himself asking nervously, “Are you angry at me?”

Itachi looked towards the fountain that was gurgling water through its spouts.  Quietly he replied, “I could never be angry at you, Sasuke, you know that.”

Sasuke wasn't so sure. Regardless, he still felt relieved that Itachi wasn't pissed and tentatively questioned, “What did this ANBU do that made you so...inquisitive of him?  Are you just afraid?”

Surprisingly, something akin to a genuine smile graced Itachi's lips.  It surprised him, considering how closed-off he had been simply moments before.  The relief tripled in volume within Sasuke's chest, because he wasn't being shut out for something that he didn't even understand.  “He's different,” Itachi replied, his voice far-off.  “I cannot really explain it, Sasuke, but I'm not scared of him like I am the others.  He...puts me at ease when the others make me want to flee.”

Sasuke didn't understand how a murderer that hadn't even spoken to Itachi could put his brother, who was infamous for keeping people at arm's length and not trusting anyone, at _ease_ of all things.  He simply couldn't comprehend it.  It was a foreign concept after years upon years of Itachi saying that the only people he felt at ease with were the three people that he lived with.  Even Fugaku, despite the awkward relationship the two had.

He didn't know what to say so he simply said nothing at all, putting his head on Itachi's shoulder and letting the rain fall around them.

***

They wandered back inside about half an hour later, the cold finally getting to them.

They said a thank you to their mother, who brought them dry towels with a soft, understanding smile, and when they were somewhat dry they headed back upstairs.  Itachi changed into some dry pyjamas after brushing his hair, eventually meandering back downstairs to get a cup of coffee to fully warm him up.  He disappeared into the kitchen, grabbing a cup and pouring some coffee before he grabbed a grapefruit and the salt, making his way into the living area.  His mother and father were sitting on the couch, murmuring softly to each other, so he took his father's recliner, putting the coffee cup down and pulling the handle on the chair.

Once fully comfortable, he began tearing apart his simple dinner, leaving the rinds on the plate as he ate slowly.  Despite the salt, it was still sweet, and Itachi enjoyed it, watching as the news played quietly in the background.

Sasuke came down fifteen minutes later, disappearing into the kitchen himself and coming out with a hefty sandwich ten minutes after that.  By then Itachi was finished, nursing his warm drink with sticky hands that were heavily stained since he hadn't taken the time to throughoutly clean them after digging into his painting.  Even the rain, while washing away the leftover residue of his art, couldn't take away the stain — only tender, loving scrubbing would do that.

Sasuke switched the channel over to something game-related, and Itachi tuned it out, eventually draining his coffee and feeling his eyes droop behind the glasses. He was utterly exhausted, the past few weeks finally getting to him, and he was so very near sleep when his brother's voice broke through the near-silence.

“So what was Minato-sama doing here?” asked Sasuke innocently.

Fugaku was quiet for a moment, and then he said quietly, “He's talked extensively with the Emperor, and they're going to push through with Proposal Delta.”

Itachi snapped awake immediately.

“You're backing it, Father?” he asked quickly, almost afraid to ask.  Delta was a huge movement that had been moving through the country for the past fifty years, and there had been fighting amongst conservatives about legalising it.  Itachi had been waiting for years for such a proposal to finally push its way through the law-making body, and with the clan heads being such bastardly traditionalists, he hadn't had much hope of it ever passing.

But if they were going to push through anyway, even without the majority of the clan heads voting in favour of the proposal (which they weren't, and Fugaku hadn't even taken a hard stance on it yet either), then Itachi swore that he would get drunk for the first time in his life in celebration.

It wasn't every day when the Prime Minister and the Emperor were talking about going over clan heads and the Parliament to pass legislation of gay marriage rights, after all.

Fugaku sighed, long and softly, before he replied, “It's going to separate the clan, and there's going to be a _lot_ of upheaval about it, but yes.  I will back this proposal, and it _will_ pass into law, Itachi.  I swear it.”

Dead silence and then Sasuke jumped out of his chair and pushed a fist into the air with a wide grin that lit up his entire face.  “To hell with the old ideals and in with better things!  Itachi and his future husband have just as much right to be as miserable as the rest of the married couples out there!”

“I'm certainly not miserable!” exclaimed Mikoto, but there was a light smile on her face as she watched her youngest son whoop in joy.  It wasn't often when Sasuke allowed himself to let go, but he had been perhaps _more_ vocal than Itachi had been about Proposal Delta finally making its way through the Parliament.  Regardless, it was freeing to watch the kid grin like a madman and talk out his arse about all the good it would do in the future and how it was the best idea in the world.

Itachi, however, was staring into space, almost unable to comprehend it.

The major countries — Fire, Water, Earth, Sand, and Lightning — had been dead-set against the legalisation of gay marriage, mostly because countries were still run by clan heads and other such traditionalists that were dependent on offspring to continue the lineage.  The clans were gradually getting smaller, which meant more seats in each country's Parliament or Congress were gradually going to unbiased politicians that didn't have clan agenda front and centre, and that just wouldn't do.

If Fugaku was going to _publicly_ back it, something a clan head in government had never done before, then other clan heads in government would follow.  The Namikaze clan would be on top of it for sure, as well as the Sarutobis and perhaps even Aburames.  Sure, there would always be the clans completely against it, like the Inuzukas and the Hyūgas, but perhaps with time they would see the light.  After all, a majority of the public was in support of the proposal, and it would be enough to sway others to the light.

Perhaps within the next ten years, maybe even _sooner_ , Itachi would be able to legally marry the person he loved.

If that ever happened, anyway, but that was beside the point.

It would be _legal_ , something unheard of before.

If Fire pushed it through, then Kumo would push it through Lightning and Sand would be quick on Fire's heels considering the heavy Akasuna and Sabaku presence in that country as well.  Earth and Water would probably take a while because they took extreme to an entirely different level, but it was a working progress.  The world hadn't been created in a week, after all.

“...achi?” he heard a voice say, interrupting his rushing thoughts.

He looked up into the glittering eyes of his brother, finally registering that the world was still moving around him.  He fought the urge to shake himself out of his mind, successfully answering evenly, “Did you say something?”

Sasuke's grin widened, showing off all his teeth, and there was a truly diabolical look in his dark eyes.  “I _said_ ,” he proclaimed with a teasing lilt to his voice, “that you better be getting your game on, big brother, 'cause shit's gonna get real soon.  You gotta step it up so I can have another brother to annoy.”

Itachi's eye widened and he gaped a bit, but he didn't get a word out, his father scolding good-naturedly, “Sasuke, leave your brother alone.  Just because people with the same preferences as Itachi will soon be able to marry doesn't mean Itachi's obligated.”

“And watch your language, Sasuke,” added Mikoto, the smile not disappearing despite her admonishment.

Itachi didn't really want to get married, so he appreciated his father's statement.  However, it was the fact of the matter that he _would_ be able to get married if he wanted to...that was what had Itachi finally allow a small smile of his own to pop onto his lips.

He stood up and strode quietly to his father, and then sat down beside the man on the couch.  He paused, awkwardly, and then simply wrapped his arms around his father and hugged the man for all he was worth.

It said so much that his father was willing to support him.  There would be controversy, the clan would be furious, and extreme traditionalists from all over the world would ridicule the family because of the development.  There was no telling how far it would go.

But his father was supporting him, supporting the good people that just wanted to legally spend the rest of their lives with the person they loved, and that meant everything in the world.

“Thank you, Father,” he whispered into the material of his father's pressed work shirt.

***

“How're you doing?” asked Sasuke.

His brother had been in a daze ever since the announcement, and they both were stretched out on Sasuke's large bed side-by-side.  Sasuke understood what this meant for a lot of people, his brother included, and wasn't surprised by the absence of Itachi's voice about such a development.  It took time to let it sink in that Uchiha Fugaku was going to lead the charge for marriage equality.

It was probably just for Itachi.

The family didn't hate the idea of being gay as a principle; it had simply never been a large issue in the clan before except for a few instances years ago.  Then again, a lot of the clan members that had been gay in the past had probably denied themselves and married some person of the opposite sex just to keep the peace, just to keep their family itself instead of being excommunicated, something that happened far too often within the traditional clans.

It had taken a lot of courage for Itachi to come out to Fugaku, especially since Fugaku was the Uchiha clan head and Itachi was the heir of the business.  The few other heirs that had done that in the past had been kicked out of their homes, forbidden to see their families, and even on the occasion beaten nearly to death because of it.

One had even died, in the Uchiha family, years upon years ago.

Now millions of people would be able to be free because of it, because Sasuke would bet his family name and his precious gaming hands that if Itachi had been born straight as an arrow, things with marriage equality would've continued at a snail's pace because of the lack of incentive.

Sasuke _loved_ his family.

“I'm good,” Itachi finally said, and that meant that Itachi actually _was_ good.  Sasuke smiled and grasped his brother's hand, squeezing tightly and trying to convey that he was willing to listen.  Maybe his brother got the signal, because Itachi continued, “I'm worried, because a lot of flack is going to come out on Father because of this, but I'm so...”

“Happy?” Sasuke supplied helpfully.  “Pleased?  Relieved?”  Then, just to tease his brother a bit, he added, “Ready to get married?”

Itachi glanced at him, clearly unamused.  “I don't want to get married.  You know that, Sasuke.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes and mock pouted.  “Damn,” he said grumpily, fighting a smile, “and I was hoping for some nieces and nephews to spoil.”

Given that Itachi was not fond of children, _at all_ , Sasuke couldn't help the laugh when Itachi blanched almost...demurely.  How anyone could even accomplish that was beyond Sasuke, but Itachi had always been able to do shit that other people couldn't, even down to his carefully schooled expressions.

“Absolutely not,” Itachi said, voice betraying his disgust of the idea.  Sasuke didn't get why Itachi could hate kids so much, because children were so much damn _fun,_ but he didn't want to bring it up.  The last time 'off-spring' had been brought up, Itachi had gone on a spiel about how children were greedy, smelly, mischievous, whiny, disgusting creatures that leeched off of their parents for eighteen years and hated them even despite the love pushed into an upbringing.

Sasuke didn't feel like defending his rather strong adoration of kids anyway.

Itachi would most likely be a good father if he had ever managed to have one, but if that did somehow happen (which it wouldn't, doubly-so since Itachi wasn't into girls and would have to go out of his way for in-vitro or adoption), Sasuke would probably have a fucking heart attack from the shock.

“Regardless,” Sasuke continued, amused and having gotten his laugh in, “I think this is great.  I'm glad he's doing this, if not for you then for everyone else out there in the world that wants to be all legally hitched and shit.”

“Language,” Itachi admonished, predictably.  Then a soft smile popped onto his lips as he replied faintly, “Me too, Sasuke.  Me too.”


	6. Blurred Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Six  
 _Blurred Colours  
_ -  
“Confusion is the welcome mat and the door of creativity.”  
 _Michael J Gelb_

 

Sasuke was pretty infamous for his short temper and wasn't afraid to own up to it.

Sasuke had no problems with people staring and snickering and whispering either good or bad things behind his back.  Sure, he would've rather someone walked up to him and said it to his face, but if people talked about him then whatever.  He really had no problem with it.  Freedom of expression, of speech, blah-blah-blah.  Either way he simply didn't have the energy to waste on idiots that couldn't help but talk about him positively or negatively.

Sasuke couldn't stand people touching him, and when it first happened, to say he was shocked was an understatement.  The first time someone bumped shoulders with him, or simply just blatantly ran into him, and not gently, he had shrugged it off because things like that happened in crowded hallways.  The second time, he had rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.  After that, he started commenting back sarcastically, usually in some manner of insulting the offender's genitalia.

With guys, especially in secondary school, that tended to be the best kind of insult.  Then again, it also started fights with lesser folk, of which Sasuke was most definitely not.

Sasuke got it.  He really did. People, as a result of their parents and upbringing, tended to have a problem with change, and ever since the Prime Minister and Sasuke's father had gone public about supporting Delta, the whispers had began.  To be fair, eighty per-cent of the people at the school didn't have a problem with it, at least outwardly.  It was just the clan kids or the highly religious nutbags (not to be confused with _people who believed in God_ , which encompassed something entirely different that Sasuke had absolutely no problem with) that were complete and unmitigated bitches about it.  He would've thought something was wrong if _no one_ had reacted violently, to be entirely honest.

But that was the thing.  Sasuke could handle someone talking about him, shoving him around.  He didn't care if some Neanderthal said that he was a queer with Uzumaki Naruto, or if someone said that his father was sucking the PM's dick behind closed doors.  He didn't care if people insulted him or his father to hell and back.  They could stick up for themselves.

The thing that Sasuke couldn't handle was people talking bad about his mother or his brother.

It wasn't even that he was sticking up for the lesser.  He had seen Itachi fight before, knew that when his brother wanted it, he could dig with his words so deep that one would need therapy for the rest of their life to recover. He knew that Mikoto had a conceal to carry permit and the training to use it, that she wasn't above cutting deep with her own words to make one cry themselves to sleep.  Itachi and Mikoto could stick up for themselves just as easily as Fugaku and Sasuke could, no doubt about it, but that wasn't the _point_.

People didn't talk about Sasuke's mum and brother unless they had a death-wish.

Which, ultimately, led to Sasuke landing himself in the Headmaster's office.

Sasuke didn't do _anything_ halfway, that was for _damn_ sure.

Akaike Sochiko, the Headmaster of the Academy, was rubbing the bridge of his nose from behind his glasses methodically, more out of irritation rather than a headache. It was relatively good that Headmaster Sochiko was paying more attention to that rather than Fugaku, who was sitting to Sasuke's right and glaring rather impressively at the Headmaster.  Sasuke would've been impressed had the situation not been so daunting.

“I would like to hear what happened from your mouth, Sasuke,” the Headmaster said, clearly exasperated and not bothering to hide it.

Fugaku sent Sasuke a look that Sasuke simply couldn't decipher, so he turned to Sochiko-sama and exhaled.  “Sir,” Sasuke said, not really in the mood for playing dumb and sorry, and most _definitely_ not in the mood to play nice, “I know what I did was wrong.  I probably broke that kid's face and I'd do it again if I had to.”  The Headmaster was looking more and more confused (and angry) the more Sasuke spoke, probably because most teens would just lie or blame someone else for causing a fight.  After all, it was a suspension at the very minimum, so teen-agers would lie instead of take the consequences.  Parents could suck about that sort of thing after all.

Time to set the record straight regardless, because Sasuke didn't do anything unless there was damn good reason.  “Regardless, I wouldn't have done it if that Hyūga hadn't opened his mouth.  I don't know about you sir, but if someone calls my mother and brother names that would make your mother weep, I'm going to retaliate.  Perhaps I could have done it with more words instead of fists, but if you'd heard what he said, you would've lost your temper too, sir.  I can't even think about it without cringing.”

With a long sigh, Sasuke continued, “Suspend me if you will.  I probably deserve it for breaking the Hyūga's pretty face, but I hope that you at least give that little punk detention or suspend him too.  It was completely unacceptable what he said, and if there's any justice in the world, you'd punish him as well.”

 _Or Naruto and Sakura will_ , he thought to himself vaguely, though he didn't speak it out loud. Just the thought of those two flipping a shit about the branch Hyūga's words nearly brought a twitch of a grin onto his face. There would be time later, when his mother and father were finished scolding him for fighting, for him to laugh uproariously at the mental picture, and probably with the two in attendance and laughing with him.

“Sasuke, that's enough,” said Fugaku sternly, but not unkindly.  Sasuke's father wasn't an idiot, far from it — he knew what the Hyūgas were saying behind everyone's back and probably knew that Sasuke had physically retaliated for something truly heinous.  Sure, violence was never the first course of action (usually), but Fugaku would abstractly understand that it was justifiable.

Sasuke didn't get into fights often.  He didn't get pissed off enough to do so.

Therefore, he had his father's backing on his... _escapade_.

And thank God too, because he had broken the kid's nose and given him two black eyes and a split lip, all without getting more than a bruise on his own cheekbone.

“I am going to suspend you, Uchiha-san,” the Headmaster said, predictably.  “I am also going to issue a suspension to Hyūga-san as well, as I will not tolerate bullying and acidic language in my hallways.  You will be barred from school for a week, with no privileges or extracurricular activities included.  Your homework will be picked up by your family, most likely your brother, for you to complete.  When you return, you will have a month of detention and two mandatory study halls on Saturdays in order to atone for your punishment of fighting in the hallways. Be thankful that you are getting off this smoothly.  Is there anything else that you need to discuss with me, Uchiha-sama, Uchiha-san?”

Sasuke stayed quiet, whereas Fugaku said tightly, “I demand assurance that my eldest son will not suffer due to my political views and backing.  This entire situation is to lay fault on that, and I do not want him caught in the crossfire.  If this does happen, I will make sure that this school is wiped off the map, and that you are unable to be employed again.”

The Headmaster, rightfully so, sweated in his seat and assured them, “Of course, though once he leaves school grounds I cannot be liable for what happens.  They are teen-agers, Uchiha-sama, and I cannot bend them to my will.  However, I will do all that I can within my walls, and you can be certain of that.  Not only for the future of this school, but because it is correct to ensure the well-being of the students that learn here.”

Fugaku nodded and stood up, Sasuke and the Headmaster following suit hastily, and the two adults bowed to each other in dismissal before Fugaku led the way out of the office.

***

Everywhere Itachi looked, he saw silver.

It was maddening, really, the shiny glimmer constantly vying for his attention no matter how he tried to distract himself with other things.  When he drove to the gym, the signs and chrome on cars caused his mind to go haywire. When in class or walking down the street to buy a tea during lunch break, he would see grey or silver hair and nearly do a double-take, wondering if the face that went with that hair was the true features of Crow.

He yearned for silver paint, though he could never mix a colour that could even come close to the colour of Crow's hair due to the fact that iridescent paints tended to be animal-based and he didn't like to buy them.  He wanted to find the perfect colour to match that shimmery hair of the captain's, and implement it into everything he did, because it was haunting him and he couldn't even understand why.

He stood in the middle of his favourite art shop, staring at the silvers that littered the shelves. There were a few promising shades, colours that were so very close to that mesmerising silver that he could alter with a bit of iridescent white or black, and his fingers itched to grab them all. He wanted to line his shelves with them, experiment, find that colour and smile in triumph as he tried to incorporate it into the canvas products of his whirling thoughts.

It was like a fever that he couldn't shake off.  First there had been the nightmares, the fear of being executed for being privy to that masculine timbre that rumbled from Crow's throat, and now there was the weird combination of dreams that made no sense and a sense of longing, just for one more moment to feel the deepness that rolled off the captain's countenance like the waves on the beaches Itachi dreamed about.

“Are you going to buy one of them or are you just going to stare at them for another hour?” asked a deep, raspy voice to the left of him, and he glanced over underneath his glasses.  The red-headed Akasuna was stocking the blues methodically, making sure every label was facing outwards at the exact angle for all the print to show, and Itachi followed his sure movements with unreadable eyes.  He almost felt the urge to twist one of the tubes a little bit to the left or right, just to mess up the shopkeeper's OCD-like placement of each container, but social decorum squashed that almost as soon as he felt the urge.

“I'm not sure yet.  I mix my own paints, as you very well know Sasori-senpai,” he said, finally turning back to the silvers and nearly losing himself to his swirling thoughts once more.

“Oh I am aware, Itachi-san,” the shop owner replied easily, “but if you keep staring at them, they're going to burst into flames.  We close in thirty minutes, and I don't want to be forced to stay late if only to clean up the mess that would result.”

Itachi nearly smiled at the light humour, and finally reached up a hand to caress the most promising colour.  “I'm sure a few tubes wouldn't make a difference,” he murmured to himself, not minding if the Akasuna was privy to him talking to himself.  He frowned to himself as he spoke though, and mentioned off-handedly, “But I've done so well with what I have.  I can surely replicate the colour myself if I put more effort into it.”

“Not likely, unless it's just a base coat, though with a colour of silver like that I sincerely doubt that,” Sasori answered, and then joined him after perfectly placing the last tube of blue.  “It would depend on what you were using it for, and then I could give you some pointers.”

Itachi sighed inaudibly and answered, “I'm not sure.  I just need this colour, to put into everything.  I can't explain it.”

Sasori smiled gently and said, “The itch.  Hits us at the inopportune moments, does it not?”

“That it does,” Itachi admitted.

“I'm not saying this as a salesman, Itachi-san,” mentioned Sasori, “but as a fellow artist. If you need it, then you need it.  I can attempt to find animal-friendly paints through world-wide retailers, but I'm sure you've tried already or you wouldn't be here staring a hole into my merchandise.  I know it is not ideal, and it might not go in favour of your particular ideals when it comes to products, but the itch cannot be satisfied until you achieve it.  Buy it, and if you can't bring yourself to use it just bring it back for a refund.”

_Oh God_ , Itachi bemoaned mentally, and folded.

He had to stop himself from scooping up every tube of the colours he wanted, limiting himself to two tubes each of the three different silvers and the iridescent black and white.  He also picked up a few canvases and synthetic brushes, lugging the massive canvases one-by-one into his vehicle before calling a goodbye to Sasori as he exited the shop a final time.

As he drove back home, he fleetingly glanced at the silvers that assaulted his eyes, trying to focus on the road instead of the foot traffic that begged for his attention.  ANBU operatives had civilian lives, after all, so was Crow out there in the Konoha bustle, window shopping or carrying groceries to his vehicle?  What would he even drive, a sleek sports car or a humble hatchback?  Would it match his hair or be a stark contrast to his ANBU persona, like a bright red or yellow?  Would he be wearing threadbare jeans and a jacket or a sharp suit that outlined his physique that was surely defined and lean with his combative training?

This needed to stop.  He was becoming obsessed with something that was supposed to be repulsive.

_Why is it supposed to be repulsive?_ he asked himself, blinking in confusion at the unmitigated thought.  _Why_ is _it supposed to be repulsive though?  Because he's ANBU and he's likely killed people?  Because he's probably a psycho?_

Except he wasn't, unless Itachi had gotten the wrong impression of the captain.  Crow had been nothing but aloof, distantly playful, and (dare he say it) charming in his own way.  Though they had only really 'known' each other for a few weeks and spoken twice, Itachi just had a feeling in his gut that Crow wasn't a psychopath.  Maybe a little rough around the edges, with a dry sense of humour, but not a psycho.

He did his job, albeit a very questionable and dangerous job, but a job just the same.  Just because one was an undertaker didn't mean that said undertaker enjoyed death or defiled the bodies.  Just because one became a doctor didn't (usually) mean that they got off on seeing people suffer or enjoy cutting people open or jabbing them with needles. Just because someone became a stripper didn't mean that they wanted to be a whore.  It was a job that they did to make money or because they had to or because they found a sense of peace in doing what they enjoyed.  Hell, just because someone joined the military didn't mean someone wanted to go to war – they usually just wanted education benefits or the ability to travel or job security or had a sense of national pride.

Itachi wasn't sure, but he got the distinct impression that Crow was a reserved, but kind person at heart.

Maybe it was in the genuine nature that he had complimented Itachi's work, or how he had listened to Itachi rant about right and wrong without growing angry or defensive.  Maybe it was in the quiet confidence he carried as he moved around Itachi's studio like he was an intruder on something important.  Maybe it was the respect he had showed Itachi's mediocre scribble before giving it back to Itachi safe and sound.  Maybe it was in the inflection of his voice, the frank and yet gentle words that he spoke with such convincing air.

Itachi pulled into his driveway and parked near the door, not bothering to take it to the garage.  At the sight of one of the part-time valets they were employing for their dinner party tonight (in which Itachi most certainly would _not_ be attending), he shook his head and called out, “Would you mind helping me with a few things?  I can't carry it in one trip and I'd like to get on the road again before the guests start arriving.”

“Of course sir,” the young man said, smiling brightly, and grabbed two of the canvases gingerly as if terrified they would break and he would be out of a job. Itachi didn't bother to mention that canvases were surprisingly sturdy, and even if one did have an elbow forced through it, there were always ways to salvage it to work.  He wasn't worried about keeping it perfect, and would likely catch it on fire or break it with his feet when he finished with the piece anyway.

The two of them carried Itachi's supplies to his studio, in which the valet had to stand outside just because Itachi was uncomfortable with just anyone seeing the inside of his head, and thanked him graciously when they were finished.  He led the way back downstairs and out of the home after grabbing the gym bag by the studio door, and the valet returned back to his post when Sasuke and Naruto hopped up the steps to meet Itachi on the railing, both of them dressed rather posh in nicer clothes.

“Hey big brother,” Sasuke greeted, smirking as he nudged Itachi with a shoulder.

“What's happening, Itachi-san?” echoed Naruto, his grin stretching across his face and causing his nose to scrunch up cheerfully.  The afternoon sunlight glinted off the silver stud in his left nostril, which caught Itachi's eye immediately, but he forced himself to not be that creepy older brother and glare at the offending silver jewellery.  He _really_ needed to do something to take his mind off of the ANBU captain, effective immediately, and therefore he needed to get out of here.

“Hello,” he replied genially, letting the smallest of smiles grace his lips for a few moments just to be polite.  His eye caught movement in his peripheral, and a quick look showed the overbearing presence of an ANBU operative, cloaked in black and standing silently near Sasuke's vehicle.

The smile immediately tapered off into nothingness.

Sasuke didn't seem to notice, mentioning off-handedly, “What're you doing during the _schmoozing_?” A quick glance at the gym bag, and then Sasuke amended, “Well _after_ you're done with the gym?  I mean, you can't stay there overnight after all and this thing Father is throwing will probably go on into the early-early morning.”

Itachi knew that, and he also knew that he didn't particularly want to be in the house during the festivities.  It was a major political banquet on trying to get people in tune with Delta, so having the oh-so-gay son merrily painting in the southwest wing wasn't exactly advantageous.  Fugaku needed to make it less about Itachi's rights and more about the benefits that would accompany the clans in the long run.  He needed to make it impersonal, and having Itachi around would only hurt his case in point.

Itachi didn't mind buggering off for the night, really, though he didn't really have anywhere to go. He fully anticipated just making his way around the city, exploring and maybe sketching or taking pictures, before finding a suitable hotel to crash in for the night.  He had a credit card, after all, and not any friends that he was comfortable staying with in the meantime.

Or any friends, really, but he wasn't as gifted in that regard as, say, Sasuke was.

Instead, he said, “I have a few things I want to do in the city, and then we'll see.  Why?”

“Maa, we're throwing a bit of a get-together at my house,” elaborated Naruto happily.  “We've got tonnes of room and it shouldn't get too crazy, but I figured I'd give you an invite since you're pretty cool.”

Itachi hesitated.  As much as a little voice inside his head said that it would be a great idea, because perhaps Crow would be on the security detail there and he would get to make sure Sasuke didn't get _too_ drunk, he really wanted some times to be alone, really alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company.  He needed to let it go a bit, stop obsessing over this whole thing, because it was just a chance encounter and he didn't need to read too much into it.  The ANBU captain wasn't going to kill him (yet?) and though there had been a few remarks here and there regarding Itachi been accepted into the organisation, he didn't think that an invitation would be ultimately be given by the Emperor. The scandal would be horrendous and Itachi would've been obligated to refuse anyway, due to the fact that he simply wasn't cut out for it.

Eventually though, he replied back smoothly, “I'll be figuring it out as the night progresses but I'll let you know if I'm heading over there.”

Sasuke shrugged and answered back, “Alright, well, don't get into too much trouble.  I'll keep my phone on just in case, so just throw me a call if you'll be heading over.”

“Alright,” said Itachi, waving slightly to his brother and friend as they made their way back into the house, likely for an overnight bag.  He himself began trekking down the stairs, throwing his gym bag into the back-seat and immediately jumping back into his black F-Type R.

His mind was surprisingly blank when he arrived at the gym, so he allowed himself a swim.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, a speeding bullet in the water, loving how his body moved.  He could only see the black racing lines and vivid, light blue water that splashed without reason around his form, smell the pleasing scent of chlorine, feel the cool water glide past his body, and he loved it, loved every moment of it.  It was so freeing, allowing himself to just get lost in the repetitive movements, lungs heaving for more chlorine-scented air, muscles burning through the exercise.  Swimming was one of the most relaxing and yet demanding things that he accomplished in his life, and he knew he was meant to spend his days relaxing by the beach and pool, drawing and painting and sunbathing to his heart's content.

He eventually tired too much to continue his brutal pace, finally floating on his back to relax as he watched the beautiful reflection of the turquoise water on the foggy glass ceiling.  He allowed his mind to churn once again, closing his brown eyes softly behind his prescription goggles as the cool water chilled his overheated body.

He knew he wouldn't be stopping by the Namikaze residence, the Kantei, that night, because he needed alone time.  Constantly, he was surrounded by people that attempted to include him, and while he was inwardly touched by some of the efforts, like from Sasuke's friends, he wasn't in the mood for socialising that night.  In a way, he wasn't even in the mood to create things, instead having the yearning to simply relax with a cup of tea as he read a good book.  Perhaps that would be his first order of business when he left the pool, finding a bookshop in order to have a selection.  There were a few places that he had wanted to visit and see since coming here, and simply hadn't had the chance to. He could find a new teashop besides his usual haunts, watch people go by while being confident that the mysterious ANBU captain would be guarding the Prime Minister at the Uchiha residence or Namikaze Naruto at the Kantei.

His phone alarm went off, signalling that it was an hour to closing, so he treaded water for a moment, pulling off his goggles and letting the world turn into a blurry mess.  He blinked rapidly and them began swimming lethargically to the side of the pool, heaving himself up with his arms and dripping heavily onto the brick concrete floor.

He dried off as much as he could before heading to the showers, for once not taking his time and cleaning himself from the chlorine as quickly as he deemed satisfactory.  He changed into comfortable clothes – blue jean trousers, a loose-fitting blue shirt that made him look thinner than he actually was, and a pair of all-black Chuck Taylors – before throwing his damp hair into his customary low ponytail and throwing on a pair of glasses.  He made his way to the lobby, waving to the tired woman behind the counter, and stepped out into the hot, muggy Konoha evening.

His thoughts swirled in no particular pattern, his utter peace at his existence reflecting physically in the small, barely-there smile on his lips, as he drove through downtown Konoha, surrounded by skyscrapers and flashing lights and shiny cars and pedestrians enjoying their Friday night on the town.  God he could grow to love this city, he knew, in all of its bustling activity and gorgeous scenery, in a way that his other places of residence couldn't compare.  It was so big, so beautiful, so easy to get lost in, and he relished it, parking his car in a parking garage and stepping out into the humidity.

He felt free.

***

Sasuke stopped in his tracks.

The Kantei was bustling with party-goers, all with glasses in their hands or dancing to the beat of the music from the surround system, and normally he would immediately go grab a punch and join the crowd, but he couldn't even breathe.

Sure, he had always known that Sakura was pretty.  Besides, with legs like that, eyes that green, and a thin body that he could've easily pulled on top of him, she was clearly his type in a physical sense, definitely.  But he had never really been the superficial type, either, and he knew that Sakura's whole countenance was something to covet.  He liked her temper, her no-nonsense attitude, her playful demeanour when she wasn't irritated with something.  He liked the fact that he could talk to her normally, without her vying for his attention or being a squealing little girl in his presence.  He liked the fact that she could smile so easily, even if it went against his own very nature, and that she was so willing to forgive and move on.  With an attitude like Sasuke's, shit like that was mandatory in any kind of relationship, platonic or otherwise.

He had always known that Sakura was attractive, and totally his type, but he hadn't gotten the impression that she was really into him and he hadn't even really been into her either.  She had been sort of flirty with that fucking Hyūga, for whatever reason, and he had been placing bets on how long it would take the kid to ask her on a date.  After all, before all, they were friends, and friends made fun of each other and placed bets on love lives in order to tease each other.

Sasuke let out the breath he was holding, and tried to close his jaw.

“Holy shit, is that Sakura-chan?!” exclaimed Naruto, oddly quiet when compared to the loud music and laughing.

“Yeah,” Sasuke replied, almost in awe.  Then, because he couldn't think of anything else to say, he repeated, “ _Yeah_.”

She was in a dress.  A fucking _dress_.  He'd seen her in the school uniform, which was little more than a knee-length skirt, but it hadn't been anything like this. The thing she was wearing that night was cherry red, strapless, and it hugged her rather small breasts perfectly.  Her narrow, but still feminine hips were outlined deliciously by a black sash around her waist.  The skirt itself consisted of fabric that fell loosely mid-thigh, which flared out when she spun around on the dance floor with Lee.  He could see black spandex shorts underneath, and he would've smiled at her proper decorum if he wasn't so busy staring at those legs that went on forever, made even longer by the sensible black heels with tiny red bows on the sides that adorned her feet.

Furthermore, she had make-up on, and not just her usual light make-up that really brought out her face.  Smoky black eyeliner, black and silver eyeshadow that wasn't too thick to look tacky, mascara that made her eyes pop, pale red lipstick that accented that mouth that smiled brightly at her dance partner.  Little dangly diamond earrings that glittered behind the few tendrils of wavy pink hair that framed her delicate face, whereas the rest of that long hair was pulled up in an elegant up-do that didn't pull at the skin of her face...

God, she was _gorgeous_. Why hadn't he _really_ noticed this before, instead of just a pretty girl who happened to be a pretty cool friend?

“Wow,” he whispered to himself, ignoring Naruto's snort from right beside him.

“You should go ask her to dance, Sauce-Gay,” Naruto said with a fox-like grin in his voice, and he knew without looking that his face would echo the teasing lilt to his voice.  However he couldn't take his eyes off Sakura to see for himself, even to watch some of the admittedly more attractive girls already giggling at him to his right.  Sure those girls were bombshells, more-so than Sakura could ever hope for simply because of stereotypes, and would likely do anything he asked, but he wasn't that type of person and he wasn't into airheads either.

Sakura, on the other hand, had the looks _and_ the personality.  He actually _enjoyed_ hanging around this girl, and, more importantly, his _family_ liked her, even Itachi.

Oh he was so fucked.

“Yeah, okay,” he said in a daze, but didn't resist the jibe that followed: “as long as you ask Hinata to dance.”  He finally forced his eyes away, not wanting to seem like a creepy stalker that just stared at a potential conquest, to find the Hyūga heiress, who was talking with Hyūga Neji and his maybe-girlfriend Tenten.  Those iridescent lavender eyes kept flickering in their direction, a light blush on her cheeks, but she continued talking with her cousin without seeking her annoying blond crush out.

“Oh, should I?” asked Naruto, clearly confused.  “I can totally do that, but she always either stutters a lot around me or just faints, and I really don't want that to happen to her in front of all these people.  She's such a nice girl and I don't want to embarrass her.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes.  “You are such an idiot,” he complained.  “I have not the slightest idea why, but that girl is half in love with you, and only a bumbling idiot like you could completely miss that.”

Leaving Naruto sputtering behind him, the blond in shock, he advanced to the dance floor just as the song changed.

“Hey, mind if I butt in Lee?” he asked, turning up the charm to the hyperactive teen in the green tuxedo, and was rewarded with a billion-watt smile in return.

“Why of course, brave Sasuke! It is only customary to dance with friends at a party, and with such a beautiful lady indeed!  I shall leave the goddess to you, youthful Uchiha, and may you enjoy her company as much as I have thus far!” he proclaimed loudly, giving a thumbs-up before disappearing into the throng of people.

“Oh my fucking God, thank you,” Sakura immediately said with a laugh, her language contradicting her feminine and lady-like persona, and that made Sasuke just want her more in that moment.  He wasn't sure if it was the kind of like that spoke of dates and family meetings or if he just wanted to kiss her, figuring it was a mixture of both, and instead began dancing with her smoothly.  She continued, “I mean, I like Lee, but in moderation.”

“Oh I agree.  He's interesting, but only in small doses, and only if his own friends are around to take the edge off,” replied Sasuke, not resisting the urge to pull her close.  She smelt like vanilla, and punch, and simply _girl_ , and he smirked at her to keep himself from grinning like a lunatic.

“Ha-ha,” she mock laughed with a grin.  "Admit it, you just want him for yourself.  His lean, green, mighty machine of a body, oh yeah, you know you want it, you need it, you _ache_ for it...”  She broke out in laughter, ruffling his hair and likely messing it up in the process, but he didn't even care.  Not even the smallest of fucks.

God he wanted her.  The end, period, dot.

And what Sasuke wanted, he went for, and with everything that he had.  When he wanted something, he put his entire being into achieving it, and while he didn't think of Sakura as a conquest, he did think of her as a kindred spirit that would be magnificent at his side.

Yeah.  Magnificent.  In _so_ many ways.

Her laughter died off and her smile turned a bit hesitant.  “You alright?  Did I cross a line or something?  You're sort of reading my soul right now, Sasuke-kun, and I'm not sure whether to be flattered that you've deemed me interesting enough to do so or terrified because you could have me murdered in my sleep.”

He didn't answer.  Instead, he leant up close to her ear and asked quietly, “Nah, I don't want you murdered.  I would much rather take you to dinner.”

She pulled back sharply, beryl green eyes narrowed and flickering back and forth between Sasuke's ebony eyes as if searching for a lie.  He didn't try to pull away but he didn't push himself into her bubble, continuing to dance with her even though their movements with the music were absent and almost half-hearted, both of them concentrated on the conversation.

Then she shook her head in disbelief and said, “You're actually serious.”

Sasuke was actually a bit insulted.  “Well, yes, I am.  I wouldn't joke about something like this.  You know me better than that.”

She still didn't look convinced. “Is it because I'm wearing a dress and actually look like a girl instead of a tomboy?”

Sasuke groaned in complete exasperation and grabbed her hand, pulling her from the mass of people into a less rowdy corner.  She followed behind him quietly, her hand small and secure within his larger one, and when they finally arrived at Sasuke's destination, he didn't hesitate to grab the other hand as well.  “You're as much of an idiot as Naruto is sometimes,” he said bluntly, watching as Sakura's mouth opened to retort.  Instead of letting her open her mouth he interrupted, “No, let me finish.”

Reluctantly, Sakura pressed her (delicious, full, kissable) lips closed and gave him a look that said sarcastically, ' _Alright, oh mighty one, grace me with your inspiring words of wisdom!_ '  Trying to not seem amused by said look, he continued truthfully, “I've always thought you were attractive, since the first time I kind of met you, but that's not why I'm asking you to dinner.  I'm asking you to dinner because you can kick my arse at Super Smash Brothers, and because you put up with my special brand of arrogant, and because you don't giggle at me like those freaky girls do, and because you don't mind me for me, and because you are just generally awesome.  So can I stop talking like a girl right now about feelings and shit and just take you out to dinner like any guy would to a girl they liked?  And when did this crap become so painful to do?”

“You're so charming,” she dead-panned finally, though her eyes were soft and playful.  “This 'crap' has always been painful, so get over it.  So sure, to alleviate your pain, I shall grudgingly accept your offer as long as you pay like a gentleman.”  She paused, and then said, “And you like that I beat you at Super Smash Brothers.  I always knew you were a masochist.”

“Oh my God, shut up now,” Sasuke bemoaned, and then kissed her.

Yeah, he was so utterly fucked.

***

Itachi felt a buzzing in his pocket, and he frowned.

Usually he only got texts from his family members in emergencies (though those were usually phone calls) or when Sasuke was drunk.  So, with a twinge of panic in his stomach, he fished out the abhorrent piece of technology and unlocked it, finally opening up his messages.

A text from his brother, and the grammar was too well articulated for the kid to be even remotely buzzed, since Sasuke became illiterate after a single beer:  ' _Hey Itachi, was wondering if you were coming...Sakura's my girlfriend now I think._ '

Well.  Now he was practically obligated to give the _hurt my brother and I'll have your head_ speech in the near future to Haruno Sakura.  And when had that happened?  Sasuke had always given the impression that he thought of her as the girl who was also the friend, nothing more, though they always said friends made the best partners.  Sure, that Haruno girl had clearly had a thing for Sasuke, but it hadn't been noticeable really and she had always been downright respectful in regards to it. Itachi liked her in fact, but he hadn't known _Sasuke_ had liked her.  And in a different way, obviously.

Besides, how was he not sure if the girl was his girlfriend or not?  Wasn't that, like, said openly to begin with, just to set boundaries?  He should at least know if he was actively dating the girl or not, for crying out loud.  It shouldn't be that hard.

Then again, Itachi didn't know how that worked from personal experience, so perhaps he had missed the memo.

He still didn't particularly feel like crashing the party either.  He was tired, as it was going on one in the morning, and the words on the pages of his book were beginning to blur together.  He hid a yawn behind his right hand and managed to drain the last of his tea before beginning to clean up the comfy nook he had been reading in for the past few hours.  He threw back a quick text in apology, citing exhaustion as his reason for not making an appearance, and reminded Sasuke to bring his maybe-girlfriend to the house for brunch one day, just so Mikoto could dote and Fugaku could do the whole intimidating father thing with his eyes.

Sakura was lucky she was a girl, and therefore enjoyed the privileges of the loathed double-standard. If Itachi had brought back a boy, his father would've used a shotgun as his intimidation factor instead of the eyes.

The woe of liking men. He made his way out of the coffee shop, dropping a hefty tip into the tip bowl with a small smile to the barista, and breathed in the air of the city.  It was surprisingly fresh, despite being in the middle of the biggest city in the world, due to the light drizzle that had begun an hour previous.  Fascinated by the light rain and the glistening world highlighted by water, he began walking towards the parking garage a few blocks east without a care in the world.

That was, until he noticed them.

Three of them, not overly large but thicker than Itachi's lean frame.  It wasn't exactly hard to miss them, considering that the streets were thinning due to the drizzle and the late hour and they weren't exactly being quiet.  It was unfortunate that people would resort to verbal slang to get their hatred across, as if that would devastate Itachi to tears or the sort.  He had been called such names before, and he wasn't the type to let it get to him.

So he ignored their catcalls about his queerness, his freak nature, and continued walking at the same pace, not wanting to give them ammunition to believe that he was scared or affected in some way by their slurs.  He knew that nothing would come of it anyway, not in the middle of downtown Konohagakure on a Friday night.  It would be completely ridiculous for someone to actively assault him under such circumstances.  In Iwa, certainly, but not in Konoha, where everyone was almost unnervingly friendly and seemingly incapable of not helping others in a bind.  So he continued on his merry way, for all the world looking like he didn't even hear the men, and was even pleased when a few pedestrians called out angrily for the idiots to stop being arseholes.

He turned the corner a block from the parking garage and slipped into another café, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as he went to the counter to order.  He smiled gently at the new barista, ordering their house tea, while the men pounded on the glass windows, shouting things that would make their mothers cry.  A few of the dozen patrons stood right back up and began yelling back, starting a bit of a match to see who could out-scream the other.  Naturally, the patrons won due to being larger in number, saying some truly atrocious things and infuriating the men until they finally gave crude gestures of licking female body parts before leaving.

A cheer went out and Itachi genuinely smiled at them all, lifting up his tea in a silent toast. He slipped the barista two fifty pound notes and murmured, “If anyone here wants another drink or pastry, please let it be on me. Keep the rest.”

He found a new seat and decided to lay low for a bit to give the men time to cool off and find better things to do.  The adrenaline pumped through his blood so he didn't have much difficulty concentrating on his book once again.  He lost himself into the story, steadily drinking his tea, and occasionally lifting his glass once again to patrons that realised they didn't have to buy their refills.

He finally finished his glass and stood to throw his cup into the cardboard recycle bin, and tossed another fifty pound note into the tip jar just for the thought of it, letting his eyes warily scan the lightly populated streets for any signs of the men.  When he was satisfied, he called out a goodbye, to the return of many variations of “Have a good night, Uchiha-san, and thanks for the coffee!”

He walked calmly to the parking garage without any feelings of foreboding, usually a good sign, and didn't even mind mingling with the sparse foot traffic that surrounded him.  He gradually grew more damp as the drizzle turned to rain, feeling utterly refreshed and calm in his surroundings.  When he stepped into the enclosed garage, turning towards the stairs for the third floor, he shook himself in an effort to flick off any of the water he could.  He drove a pristine Jaguar, a birthday present, and he certainly didn't want to ruin the upholstery.

When he deemed himself not completely soaked, he took to the stairs and began climbing, already looking forward to the next adventure.  He wasn't sure where he was going to stay yet, though he had already debated on whether or not he wanted to go to the posh hotel ten or so blocks away, the hotel where he had first come into contact with Crow.  It had been a nice, spiffy-looking place, and maybe it would placate some of the still-swirling thoughts that surrounded the ANBU captain.

Someone grabbed him around the middle when he had taken a mere two steps into the open space of the third storey, immediately smashing his arms against his body so he couldn't begin throwing his arms around for a solid hit to the jaw. He opted to kick his feet instead, and aimed when one of his assailants finally came into view.  One of the idiots from before, and Itachi had been certain they had given up.

His foot connected with the man's chin, causing him to snap back and fall heavily to the floor, dazed.  Itachi didn't give himself a moment to gleefully relish the moment, focussing instead on trying to buck free of the man who pinned him so effortlessly.

“Take his fucking glasses!” the man behind Itachi said, and he attempted to bite the hand that came towards his face but failed.  His glasses were ripped from his face, leaving the world blurry and disorienting, before his entire head snapped to the right in an explosion of pain.

He choked on the taste of blood that flooded his mouth, trying to get oxygen, but he found that he couldn't when fists crashed into his stomach, his ribs, his chest, everywhere, all accompanied by slurs and hurtful words and threats. He heard his own wheezing breaths, his bones snap, and suddenly he was dropped to the ground only for the abuse to continue.  It seemed like it would never end, and he simply curled in upon himself to try and protect his vital organs, all of the fight forced out of him by the never-ending pain.

His awareness narrowed to a dark tunnel that was trying to suck him in but still too far from reach, still too far away to reach blessed unconsciousness.  He knew in the back of his mind that this was a good thing, because the last thing he needed was to pass out before going to hospital, but he longed for it so completely that it was an emotional ache to accompany the physical beating he simply allowed to happen.

He distantly heard a scream and then the pummelling ended, a particularly violent kick forcing him onto his back with an accompanied “Now why don't you fucking _die_ you filthy cocksucker!”  The shrieks of pain his body was experiencing only seemed to intensify now that the adrenaline and fear was abruptly cut off in lieu of the beating.  He began gagging painfully, completely unable to breathe through his broken nose and his throat full of blood, until someone forced him onto his side again.  It allowed the blood to drip from his mouth, oxygen beginning to make it into his lungs, but he could tell by the digging pain in his chest and the wet sound of his breathing that he had broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung.

“Call an ambulance!” someone bellowed, and another voice was sobbing something, but he couldn't make out the words.  There was a strange, high-pitched sound ringing in his ears, and he tried to crack open his eyes to get his bearing, but it only succeeded in making him dizzy.  Without even realising it, he was vomiting, and hands were pulling his hair back as his body convulsed at the force of it, excruciating pain accompanying.  Very suddenly he couldn't do anything but cry from the pain, and he knew now that if he hadn't punctured a lung before his vomiting episode, then it surely was now.  He could feel the blood filling up his lungs slowly, painfully, and he was terrified.

“The ambulance is coming, Itachi-san.  Just hang on just a little bit longer and stay awake for me,” a woman's voice said, a cool hand brushing his sticky hair away from his forehead.

He had to talk to Sasuke, had to let him know what was going on.  He prepared himself, and then forced himself to say through the shriek of agony, “...'hone...call...brother...Sasuke... _please_...”  It was mumbled, and gargled through the blood in his throat and chest and broken nose, but someone began gently digging in his jeans pocket, eventually holding down the home button on the centre of his iPhone and saying clearly, “Call Sasuke.”

“ _Calling Sasuke_ ,” droned Siri, and then he heard Sasuke pick up with laughter in his voice.

“Sasuke-san? This is Matsuyama Akira, and there's been an accident.  Your brother's been attacked and—”

The last thing before he finally succumbed to unconsciousness was the sound of Sasuke panicking and the sirens in the distance.


	7. Pain and Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Part of the migration from LJ/FFdotNet to AO3 and edited to my 2013 standards by yours truly.

Chapter Seven  
 _Pain and Desperation  
_ -  
“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.”  
 _Henri Nouwen_

 

Sasuke called his father before the press could get a hold of the story.

Fugaku answered after three rings with a concerned tone.  “Sasuke, is everything okay?”  For good reason too, because Sasuke or Itachi wouldn't call their father or mother during a function unless something was wrong.

“Itachi's headed to hospital. Konoha General,” Sasuke managed, pressing his head against the cool passenger side window of Naruto's Dodge Ram.

He didn't say anything else because he didn't need to; his father simply said, “We're on our way,” and hung up immediately.

Sasuke allowed Naruto to reach over the centre console and gently grab the phone from his shaking fingers, handing it to Sakura in the back-seat.  Sasuke resolutely stared out of the window, hands folded delicately on his lap and his face carefully blank, watching Naruto drive quickly to KG from the reflection on the window.  He watched as Naruto shifted gear with his left hand, speeding up well beyond the point of legal limit especially in the rain, but didn't feel anything in regards to the sense of urgency.  He was thankful that Naruto had opted to drive, and had enlisted to accompaniment of the ANBU beside him, because they flanked the truck in their unmarked vehicles with government plates.  No rozzer in their right mind would pull over a vehicle surrounded by ANBU operatives and a captain.  It would be professional suicide.

No one touched him, not Sakura in the seat behind him or Naruto driving on his right, because he wasn't sure how he would react.  Any sort of comfort at this point would either make him lash out violently or start sobbing, and his two friends actually knew him well enough to leave him alone, which was slightly terrifying and oddly comforting considering they had only known each other for a little over three months.

Regardless of the speed they were travelling, barrelling their way down the motorway with all the ANBU vehicles flashing their emergency lights in order to clear the roads as much as possible, it seemingly took forever to get to the turn-off into downtown Konoha.  When they did, movement was a tad bit slower due to the light congestion, but they still moved swiftly and yet not fast enough.  Sasuke felt like he had been in that truck for hours.

He wasn't even sure if Itachi was dead.  Before Itachi had been wheeled off into the ambulance, the man – Akira, his name was, Matsuyama Akira, and he needed to find that man and thank him for seeing the crime when he did or those men would've killed Itachi for sure – had said that Itachi was alive, but it looked really bad.  Said that there was a lot of blood and that Itachi wasn't breathing right, instead all wet and short. Sasuke had been able to hear that, though his brother hadn't managed to get any words out when Sasuke had picked up the line, and Sasuke had panicked when they said he was starting to jerk uncontrollably.

Hadn't Itachi suffered enough in his life?  Hadn't he fucking suffered _enough_ already?  It wasn't fair that Itachi was constantly being stepped upon, be it due to his sexuality or his cancer or his anti-social tendencies.  People walked all over him because Itachi wouldn't defend himself unless sincerely threatened or for someone else's well-being, and it just wasn't _fair_.

Sasuke knew that Itachi could _die_ just because he had been born with what was perceived as a disease, when the only fucking _disease_ he had was his cancer.

He could die because of unmitigated, unwarranted, unfair cruelty.

The massive building with _Konoha General Hospital_ in red letters along the side came into view, and Sasuke fought to keep control over his emotions.  He couldn't lose his cool, not when he needed to keep a calm head for Itachi's sake.  He had to keep himself in check just in case, because he needed to be strong for his brother.

Itachi was unbelievably strong but he wasn't invincible, and Sasuke owed it to him to give him strength when Itachi would need it most.

They pulled up to the front doors of the A &E, a mere twenty minutes after the initial call, and Sasuke rushed out with Sakura, Naruto, and most of the ANBU hot on his heels.  He didn't give a thought to leaving the truck in front of an unloading zone – surely someone would take care of that, since Sasuke could still hear the roar of the massive engine, indicating Naruto had left the vehicle running.

“Where is he?” Sasuke said loudly, completely calm but no-nonsense, and two nurses immediately jumped up, leading the way to wherever Itachi was without a single word.  That was one of the best things about being relatively well-known, for being the heir of a massive corporation and a multi-billion dollar legacy, because people simply obeyed at the sight of his face or name.  Maybe it wasn't fair to the rest of the world who didn't have the same privileges, but Sasuke didn't care about that either.  If it got him to his brother's side faster, then _fuck_ the rest of the world.

The six ANBU behind them and Naruto probably helped move things along as well.

They led him up, and the common theme on the signs was surgery.  He had to force himself to keep moving, because his legs felt like rubber and the room was starting to spin as if his blood sugar was low, indicating that he was on the verge of passing out, and that was the very _last_ thing he needed right now.  What he needed was to be there already and to talk to the doctor to find out what was going on.

The waiting room for surgery was small and nearly empty, save for two unknown people in the corner. They didn't even look affected by the people swarming in the room, including the ominous ANBU, clearly lost in their own grief.

Sasuke whipped around and demanded the nurses angrily, “What do you know?  Who can I talk to? How do I find out what's going on?”

“I'm sorry Uchiha-sama,” one of the women said, looking panicked.  “I'll get someone here immediately that knows more than we do, but I can't make any promises.  We just know he was transported here about ten minutes before you arrived, and they took him immediately to surgery.”

“Get someone now,” Sasuke snarled, hating that he couldn't even deliver them kindness as he tried to reign in his fear and anger, and the women hurried off.

He sat in the chair closest to the door, while Naruto and Sakura (oh God they were dating and had been kissing and had that only been an hour ago?) sat down in the middle cluster of chairs.  The ANBU split up into pairs, the captain staying behind as the others began doing customary patrols, simply to make sure that the area was safe for Naruto.

He glared a hole into the side of the ANBU captain's head.  That mask looked unnervingly familiar, but it took him nearly fifteen minutes to place it, due to constantly being distracted by his fright and anxiety over Itachi's situation.  That was the same mask that belonged to the captain that Itachi stared at, inquisitive and slightly fearful, the same captain that had brought his brother back at the political fund-raiser so long ago, the same captain that Itachi had sort of defended underneath a willow on the Uchiha grounds while it rained.

Sasuke didn't say anything to him, as he knew that he wouldn't get an answer back.  It was against protocol, after all.  He simply glared, and he knew instinctively that the captain was staring back unblinkingly. It made Sasuke shiver with uneasiness, knowing that he had the sole attention of a mad killer, a psychopath, a man that tortured and destroyed lives without even blinking, but he refused to back down. He wasn't even sure _why_ he wouldn't, or what he was even glaring for.  For scaring his brother?  To warn him away?  For an explanation?  He wouldn't get any result for demanding any of the above, so the only thing Sasuke was doing was potentially signing his own death warrant via ANBU just out of spite.

He likely would've continued the staring contest until the end of time, due to it taking his mind mostly off the state of his brother, but the door swung open forcefully and he was forced to return to panicking internally at the sight of his parents, the Prime Minister, and Kushina, escorted by more ANBU.

“Dear God, what happened?” demanded Fugaku, just as forcefully as Sasuke had previously, and he would've smiled if the situation wasn't so fucking messed up.  Fugaku looked as if he was about to break down, eyes bloodshot and his teeth clenched as if trying to keep emotions at bay, and Sasuke prayed to whatever god was out there that his father wouldn't cry.  If Uchiha Fugaku started crying, Sasuke would never _stop_ crying.

Mikoto looked perfect as usual in her party clothes, calm and collected and for all the world looking as if she was watching the weather instead of standing in a waiting room to see if her eldest child was going to die.  Sasuke wished so much that he could have that talent, to seem completely at ease and emotionless even when the world was falling down around him.

In a way he hated her in that moment, just like he had hated her when Itachi had been diagnosed with leukaemia and during the whole treatment process.  He _knew_ that she cared, that she was probably screaming inside, but he hated that she couldn't be a mother in those ( _these_ ) moments, couldn't even show her emotions to the people who needed her most.

In her own way, she was just as emotionally fucked up as Itachi was, and he almost felt sorry for her.

Sasuke couldn't speak, and he heard Sakura answer softly, her voice wavering but never dying, “We got a call about an hour ago from Itachi's phone, Uchiha-sama. Apparently he had been jumped in downtown Konoha by three men and was in pretty bad shape.  He's been in surgery ever since we got here, a little less than thirty minutes ago.  We don't know anything else yet.”

“Okay,” Fugaku said simply, almost defeated, voice muffled as he sat down heavily and put his face into his palms.

They spent the next five hours in that tiny, stifling waiting room, occasionally speaking to the police when they came to ask questions that no one had answers to. Sakura and Naruto both eventually came to sit by Sasuke, Sakura in the chair to his right and Naruto cross-legged on the end table to his left.  He grasped both of their hands tightly, feeling comforted when they returned the pressure, and he rolled his head onto his girlfriend's shoulder, burying his face in the sweet-smelling skin and thankful that she wasn't pulling away.  It was so new, their relationship, so he wouldn't have blamed her in the slightest, but she just laid her cheek on the top of Sasuke's head and hummed something vaguely familiar under her breath soothingly.

His father was gone, lost in his own head, but at one point Mikoto had asked, “Are you and Sakura-san together now, Sasuke?” and Fugaku had finally glanced up.  Sasuke had answered in the affirmative, voice low and feeling safe with his friends by his side, and Mikoto had smiled, her eyes still distant, and replied, “Well, I'm very glad for the both of you.”

Fugaku hadn't said anything, just looking at the two of them with his bloodshot eyes, before he had given the barest smile he could manage, nodded once, and then returned his head to his palms.

“I think that's their blessing,” Sasuke had whispered into Sakura's neck, and he could feel her smile rather than see it.

Three hours in, the door had opened and a doctor had come out, causing every civilian to jump to their feet.  The doctor, an older man with tired brown eyes, pulled off latex gloves and said, “Gekkō Hayate?”  The pretty brunette in the corner practically ran to the doctor, the man with the shoulder length, sandy blond hair following her slowly.  The doctor murmured some words to the woman and suddenly there was a heartbreaking cry that echoed in the small room.  The brunette fell to her knees, already weeping and begging the doctor, as if that would've made a difference, and the man wrapped her up in his arms, whispering, “Oh God, Yūgao, I'm sorry.  I'm so, so sorry.  Just breathe, just breathe, let it out.”

Sasuke's eyes had stung for half an hour, and he had pleaded his body to not cry along side her, because that didn't mean anything, it didn't mean _anything_ , Itachi was going to be _fine_...

Four hours in, one of the Prime Minister's aides had come in, pulling Minato away from the still-sobbing Yūgao who hadn't even moved from her puddle on the floor.  Minato had left her unwillingly, Kushina still holding the woman and letting her ruin her expensive dinner dress with tears and mucus.  They had whispered to each other for a long moment, before Minato had sighed and sat next to Fugaku, saying slowly, “There is an entire blockade out there.  Hit the press an hour ago.  I need to know what you want me to release to the public or if you want me to just take it from here with something generic.”

“I don't know,” Fugaku had said, anger in his tone.  “I don't even know what's going on, so how am I supposed to know what to fucking _say_ , Namikaze?”

Mikoto had stood up and taken control over the situation smoothly.  Placing a dainty hand on Fugaku's shoulder, she had said, “Minato-san, tell them the truth. Tell them that this was a hate crime directed at my son in regards to Proposal Delta.  Tell them that we're doing everything we can to find the people that did this, so they can be punished to the full extent of the law.  Tell them that Itachi is in surgery and were waiting for information.  Then I want you to tell them that we're going to be pushing for Delta even more aggressively in response.  This will make Itachi a martyr for this cause, a cornerstone for this entire proposal.  We need to make sure that the world knows that we are not backing down due to Itachi's situation, that we are not going to let violence scare us away from the benefit of the people as a whole.  We have to sound strong and driven, or our opposition will sense weakness and pounce on it.  It could even cause more violence in the future, as if vilifying the fact that people with the same desires as Itachi aren't human and worth fighting for.  We can't let that happen, not to Itachi and not to any other person who simply loves another human being against the wishes of others.”

Despite the fact that he had been rather disgusted with the speech, at the mechanical and detached manner of it, he had also been kind of proud, because she was right, even if he didn't like it, even if it made Itachi sound like a victim.

Fugaku had looked at her with such a softness in his eyes, something Sasuke had never seen in public before, and had stood up to kiss her softly on the mouth.

Other than those moments to break the monotony, time had ticked away slowly.  Hours passed, and then when the clock on the wall had shown that five hours and twelve minutes had passed, the door opened again.

They all jumped to their feet, immediately turning to the busty woman that walked through the doors, the woman they all recognised as the next heir to the rival Senju clan once Tobirama died, Senju Tsunade.  Sasuke took in her appearance – blonde hair up in a bun that was trapped beneath a net, sharp hazel eyes, blood on her scrubs though her tanned skin was clean, lips set in a line – and immediately thought the worst.  She looked like the bearer of bad news, and Sasuke's legs once again felt like rubber, clutching at Naruto for support.

She didn't beat around the bush either, which was characteristic of the rumours about her.  “He's stable for now.  We lost him a few times on the table due to the severe internal bleeding and haemorrhaging, but we have him stable. The next seventy-two hours will be critical, and I can't give you a guaranteed hack on whether he'll survive it, but we're confident. More than confident really, because that kid of yours is a fighter, Uchiha.  Never seen anything like it.  To be entirely honest, he _should've_ died, and if he'd gotten in here even twenty minutes later than he did, he _would_ be dead.  He's a strong one, Fugaku, and you should be proud of him.”

There was a long moment of silence, where everyone just stood there without making a movement, and then Sasuke couldn't keep himself from collapsing in a mixture of relief and terror.

***

He looked pitiful in the midst of all of it.

Oddly enough he wasn't connected to many wires at all – there was an IV in his hand and another in the crook of his elbow, a tube in his chest to filter out any blood and air that built back up in his lungs, the ventilator in his throat to keep him breathing, and a few heart monitors, but that was it. Still more than the chemo, but less than he had imagined in his most morbid thoughts.

Regardless, he looked exactly how Sasuke had expected him to, when Matsuyama Akira had said that Itachi had been jumped.  Almost every part of him was black and red, covered in bruises that stretched across his face and the visible parts of his chest, cuts and gashes that had been stitched together and some that would likely scar.  His eyes were swollen shut, mouth puffy and cut open down his lip, nose bandaged heavily due to a break.  There were casts on his right arm and most of his fingers, and his chest was already bandaged to the point where he looked like he was wearing a mummy Hallowe'en costume.

A broken right arm, seven broken fingers (three on his left hand, four on his right), a fractured collar bone, six breaks and five fractures in his ribs, internal bleeding, a punctured left lung, five stab wounds from what looked like a knife, and enough bruises and minor cuts that it didn't seem real.

Tsunade had said that he was unbelievably lucky that there was no damage to his head or spinal cord except a medium-grade concussion and superficial wounds to the face.  He had likely curled in on himself to protect his internal organs, leading to the back, legs, and arms getting the majority of the pummelling, and that it was a “fucking miracle” that he hadn't ended up paralysed due to spinal cord injury or with a broken back.

It was the first time they had been able to see him, four days since the incident had occurred. They had been sleeping in the ICU waiting room chairs or in cots that had been brought in, unwilling to even go to a nearby hotel for some shut-eye, showering in the nurse's stations and taking turns going down to the cafeteria for sustenance, all so they wouldn't miss the moment when Tsunade would allow them to see Itachi.  They ignored the press as a whole, even whenever the men who had been responsible had been caught due to surveillance cameras in the street and eyewitness accounts, leaving the telly off as to not be swept away by the news. Minato and the ANBU had been a constant presence, since Naruto refused to leave Sasuke at all, and Sakura had been in and out simply for school and her own parents wanting her home.

Sasuke felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and realised that his father was comforting him in the silent way he had.  He hadn't even realised that he was crying, holding on to his father's forearm, hating that he couldn't keep himself in check and strong for his brother.  He couldn't help it though, and he heard himself say out loud, “Why is it always him? Why does it always have to be him?”

“I don't know, Sasuke, and it isn't fair,” Fugaku said, “but it's made him into the incredibly kind, brave, and selfless person he is today.  Let us just be thankful that he's going to be okay.”

Sasuke embraced him, and felt his mother wrap them both up in her arms.

***

Minato came to visit them at one point with the ANBU captain present.

Sasuke spared the captain a glance, sitting vigilant by Itachi's bedside, but then returned his attention onto his brother, not willing to start any problems while Naruto's father was here.  Naruto hopped up from beside Sasuke, giving his dad a tired hug before cleaning up a bit, a bit uncharacteristic of the messy blond teen.  Sasuke appreciated it though, because the place was getting a bit trashed when no one was willing to leave Itachi's room except to get food, and sometimes not even then.

“Alright, so there has been a good turnout,” Minato said gently, sitting gingerly on the end table next to Fugaku's chair.  “Donations to push Delta through have tripled from supporters, instead of flowers or cards, and there has been a lot of press in regards to this.  You have a huge support system out there, and we've even gathered support from big names in the Inuzuka and Aburame clans, and we're expecting the Hyūga to begin pushing directives as well just for compassion's sake and to keep the public appeased.  As much as I hate the manner in which all of this occurred, Itachi being attacked might lead the way for a preliminary bill to be passed within the year instead of the original hack of five.”

Sasuke smiled half-heartedly, glad that at least something good was coming of this nightmare. Itachi would be pleased when he woke up, knowing that it wasn't all for nothing.

Minato hesitated and then admitted, “However, there have been a few groups that are commending the attackers.  They've been getting their own donations in support of trying to stop any bill from reaching the Parliament, since they're all well aware that I'll sign anything that comes to my desk.  They haven't exactly told their supporters to _attack_ other individuals that may be gay, but it's definitely implied.  I'm going to be doubling the police presence in all major prefectures within this country, and I'm pushing through a bill right now against needless violence having a double incarceration rate regardless of motive.  It's not specifically about sexual preference, so it'll keep the major conservatives from trying to stop it, but it'll help.”

“Smart,” said Fugaku honestly.  “D'you think that it'll actually stop the incidences to occur though?  I have never been oblivious to the fact that these crimes have been taking place for decades, it's just...”

“It's different when it hits closer to home,” finished Sasuke quietly, guiltily.

They all paused, glancing at Itachi.  They were expecting him to wake up any moment now, since it had been almost a week since he had been admitted.  Tsunade had assured them that his constant sleep was pretty normal due to the meds that they had in his system, and had even said that he had probably woken up before but been too tired to stay awake.  They had taken the tube out of his throat the day previous, finally removing the tube in his chest due to the lack of fluids they had witnessed since admittance.  He was slowly but surely healing, the IV delivering the necessary nutrients he needed to not starve his body and heal fast.

Maybe they had liquefied a steak and was feeding him that.  God knew he needed one.

Minato cleared his throat and asked, “How averse would you be to a permanent ANBU detail assigned to your family?  At least until a bill goes through or tensions decrease.  The Emperor, may he live forever, has given his blessing.”

Sasuke bit his tongue.  He disliked the ANBU on basic principle, just off of what they did, but he didn't deny that having them around constantly would deter any future attacks.  If there were supporters of violence against people like Itachi, even Itachi himself, he couldn't deny that he would feel infinitely more comfortable with Itachi having a constant protector. Especially since Sasuke knew that the second Itachi was clear from the hospital and able to get about easily, he would immediately return to his old habits of going places on his own.  There was nothing more that Itachi hated than people hurting his family and being smothered.  He would sneak out just on principle if they didn't give him time alone out of the house, and at least the ANBU could be a secret, hidden presence that no one would be bothered by.  Well, unless something terrible happened, and then _everyone_ would be bothered by the ANBU.

It was clear that Fugaku had the same thoughts, but Fugaku also had his pride to consider.  Frowning heavily, the Uchiha patriarch said, “We can hire bodyguards, Minato.  The Uchiha are fully capable of protecting their own.”

Apparently Minato was not amused, and answered back sarcastically, “I'm sorry Fugaku, but _please_ appease my curiosity and try to find a better set of _bodyguards_ than the ANBU Black Ops.  If you can, then give me contact information so I can replace all of the operatives immediately.”

Fugaku glared at the Prime Minister, and Sasuke was thankful that the two were close friends instead of mere acquaintances, and that Minato was a pretty chill guy with a sense of humour.  Any other Prime Minster that didn't have Minato's disposition probably would've had Fugaku annihilated just based off sheer cheek.

Thankfully Mikoto and Kushina walked in to diffuse the situation.  “What's going on in here?” asked Mikoto, smiling gently with her eyes glinting dangerously in warning, and Fugaku gave her a sheepish half-smile.

“Nothing, my dear.  We're discussing a security contract with the ANBU Black Ops.  Minato and I were just fine tuning the details.”

Sasuke and Minato both rolled their eyes simultaneously from separate ends of the room, while Naruto snickered behind his hand.

“Oh I see,” said Mikoto, her smile widening and eyes growing softer as she placed down the two sandwiches she had bought from the cafeteria on the sink ledge.  “I think that's a lovely idea, don't you think?  ANBU are extremely proficient guards, the best in the business.”

“That settles it, eh Fugaku?” mentioned Minato happily.  “The woman of the house says so and everyone knows that the wives hold all the power in a household.”

Fugaku groaned.

***

Itachi woke up later that day, just as the sun was setting.

His left hand had attempted to clench, and then the smallest moan of pain could be heard from the bed.  Immediately, Sasuke had jumped up, placing a light hand on the top of Itachi's right arm, garnished in a white cast, and had whispered soothingly, “It's okay, Itachi.  We're right here.  Try not to move much, okay?”

“...auske?” Itachi asked, voice weak and hoarse from the meds and the tube that had been unceremoniously shoved down his throat during surgery.  He tried moving again, predictably, by lifting up his head from the pillow, but groaned again in the back of his throat at the movement.

“Yeah, I'm right here, Itachi. Just try not to move, okay?  We'll get you a nurse to see if there's anything we can do to help you out.”  He glanced up to see Naruto and Sakura give a small wave before leaving the room respectfully, and he smiled at them weakly in thanks as they exited.

Mikoto had already pressed the button for a nurse while Itachi said feebly, “'kay.  I can do that.”

Sasuke laughed to himself, replying teasingly, “Well of course you will.  What else would you do?  In case you have noticed yet, you're stuck here for the time being.”

“Quiet, you,” Itachi managed, before he coughed with a grimace.  “Is there anything to drink?”

The nurse walked in with perfect timing and said, “Hello Itachi, I'm Shizune.  I'm your RGN for the night shift, and I'm going to be taking care of you.”

“He needs water,” said Sasuke.

“Alright,” she said with a kind smile.  She bustled around for a cup and pulled a straw out of a drawer, unwrapping it from the plastic and dropping it in.  “Here we go, then,” she said, handing it to Mikoto.  “He should be able to drink normally.  He's in pretty good shape regarding the circumstances.”

Mikoto lifted the cup to Itachi's lips and he took a few short sips of the water, eventually lying back down with a small sigh and murmuring, “Thank you.”

“Of course, my lovely,” Mikoto said in a low voice, and suddenly Sasuke could see the first hint of emotion in her eyes since they had been here.  There was such affection in her eyes and Sasuke genuinely smiled at seeing it. Fugaku regarded Sasuke with a small tilt of his lips as well, and they shared a small moment of understanding.  No matter Mikoto's faults when showing how she felt, she really did love her children, and it was plain as day in her dark eyes at that moment.

“How're you feeling pain-wise on a scale from one to ten, ten being the highest?” asked the RGN, dark eyes taking in Itachi's steady vitals.

“Seven, maybe,” Itachi answered, voice slightly better.  His eyes were starting to flutter beneath his eyelids, both eyes still heavily bruised but beginning to turn a sickly green along the edges as they started to heal.

“Okay, that's good.  I'm going to increase your pain meds, try to alleviate that as much as possible.  Try to stay awake as long as possible and talk as much as you can, tell us what hurts and what we can help you with.”  As she spoke, Shizune fiddled with one of the machines, hitting the plus sign twice before nodding to herself.

“I can do that,” Itachi said tiredly.

Shizune left after that, mercifully, and Sasuke brought his chair even closer so he could be within arms reach of his brother in his bed.  Before Itachi had woken up, they had all decided to not bring up exactly what had happened until he was more coherent, or to give him any information unless he needed to know or specifically asked for it.  They were all hoping he would simply let things lie and work on healing instead of working himself up over what had happened.

Then again, this was Itachi, and he had to know everything.

“There were...three of them. I can describe them for you so you can...get them, so they don't hurt 'nyone else.”

Sasuke sighed, though he hadn't really expected any different.  At least it was comforting that he hadn't forgotten anything, though it would've been kinder if he had.

Fugaku answered, “You don't have to worry about that, Itachi.  They're already in custody and they're going to be going away for a long time.  Just focus on getting better, you hear me?”

It seemed for a long moment that Itachi had opted to obey or had simply fallen asleep again, but after a few minutes, Itachi said, “I...think I broke the fat one's jaw.”

Sasuke barked out a laugh, and Fugaku chuckled.  Itachi's eyes cracked open, the white of his right eye completely blood red, and gave a shaky but _there_ smirk of utter superiority that only added to their mirth.  Sasuke couldn't even stop himself from outright cackling, covering his mouth to try and shield Itachi's head from the loudness of it.

“Yes, Itachi, you did,” Fugaku said, amusement and pride in his voice.  “You got your two pence in, indeed.”

“You've done so well, my lovely,” Mikoto said, eyes soft.

“Thank you Mother,” Itachi replied, simply, and closed his eyes to slumber.


	8. On My Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing has been fully written for weeks now, but this is the first chance I've had to upload it. Sorry to the five people that are reading this, because I hate that you've had to wait this long. Unbeta'd, and definitely not my favourite chapter, though it may be the longest. Not sure how I feel about it honestly. Ugh. Anyway, happy reading.

Chapter Eight  
 _On My Way_

-

“Suffering, once accepted, loses its edge, for the terror of it lessens, and what remains is generally far more manageable than we had imagined.”  
 _Lesley Hazelton_

 

Itachi watched the city of Konohagakure fly by.

The beautiful sunlight, bathing the world in a bright glow even as it stripped all of the colours out of the buildings surrounding, so much more vivid than the pale blue walls of a hospital room. The feel of the humid wind through the open window in his hair, the sun hot and delicious against his skin, skin that hadn't felt the sun or the wind in too many weeks. The sound of the car down the motorway, the wind loud as it entered the car, honking in the distance, so different than the low voices and the steady beeping of machines. The smell of the exhaust from vehicles surrounding, of the trees and the heat from the concrete, the opposite of the antiseptic.

Even despite half a year of being in and out of hospitals due to his cancer and the check-ups since then, he had never spent more than a week in any hospital. It had been utterly exhausting sitting there for two weeks, doing nothing except reading, and even that had been a chore. Moving around wires, half of his fingers being broken on each hand...he just hadn't had a lot of room to manoeuvre in that place. They had been constantly worried about him moving this way, or doing that, or going to the loo on his own. He had been continually doted on, to the point where he had nearly snapped and told everyone to bugger off for a few hours at the very least. He hadn't though, because that would've been rude, and so he smothered the outburst and suffered through it.

He felt like he had just been released from prison, to tell the truth.

The only person that hadn't treated him like a breakable doll had been Naruto, of all people, who had been in and out as much as the Prime Minister and his porcelain entourage. Naruto at one point had even leant up close to Itachi's ear and whispered teasingly, “I bet this shit's driving you nuts, isn't it? I would've already ripped someone's head off if I was in your position...or staged a breakout by now.”

Itachi had fancied the idea of making a runner for a split second before he sighed dejectedly and answered quietly, uncharacteristically, “Please tell them that I am perfectly capable of taking a piss on my own.”

At least Naruto's loud, cheerful laughter had stopped Fugaku and Sasuke from strangling each other.

Getting out of the hospital had been terrible but Itachi had luckily been able to avoid the majority of that, leaving through a side exit and into an unmarked vehicle with his family to escape the press. The windows had been up then, heavily tinted, and the reporters had banged on the car frantically as they screamed questions. It had been a miracle no one had been bulldozed over by Fugaku or the two cars that were ahead and behind as they had exited the hospital grounds.

However, now they were making their way quickly back to the Uchiha estate, where a whole other dinosaur was lying in wait. Sure, the press was there too, just dying for a glimpse of him and his family that were on the cover of papers and magazines in regards to the attack and Proposal Delta, but they would be held out by the gate that would actually be used for the first time since moving in; they had kept it open due to having relative privacy, but now that was a pipe dream with everything that was going on. However, who it would be guarded  _ by _ was the real fiasco.

ANBU.

After literally hours of discussion by Fugaku, Mikoto, and Minato while Sasuke and Itachi listened, they had finally come up with a reasonable game plan. There would be at least two cells of four at all times at the Uchiha estate, and possibly more due to functions and guests and the sort. They would all be on shifts of eight hours a piece, and two separate captains would operate in conjunction with the two cells on a single shift – this meant twenty-four operatives and six captains, all working constantly and with the sole purpose of guarding their home and person. The first shift was to start at 0600 to 1400, then 1400 to 2200, and then 2200 to 0600, and most of them would overlap, leading to increased security during the switch between cells.

If anyone was to leave, two operatives were required to tail them at all times for security's sake. It wasn't any different for Itachi, thankfully, but it was still a hassle, though ANBU was pretty good at being discreet as well.

Sasuke had complained about needing a personal life, especially with a new girlfriend, which had utterly scandalised Itachi into being speechless. As far as Itachi was concerned, his  _ little _ brother was fifteen, almost sixteen, and that was  _ much _ too young to have a healthy sex life – Sasuke could start doing all of that madness when he was, say, thirty or so. That would've been a good age for him to start messing around, indeed, but no earlier than that. Sasuke would remain that little petulant toddler in Itachi's mind until he could grow a full beard like an adult, and not a day sooner.

Fugaku had laughed and said, “That's my boy.”

Mikoto had simply muttered under her breath about talking to Sakura about birth control.

Itachi had refused to speak to anyone after that.

The ex-heir could see the mild crowd near the gates to the estate, and the vehicle procession slowed down in order to keep people from dying outside. It took a good two minutes to clear a section, but eventually they got through, making the way down the circular drive and stopping in front of the doors.

Itachi took a deep breath, glanced at Sasuke, and then opened the door.

He wasn't at one hundred per-cent yet, but he would be fine in the long run. As long as he never went scuba diving, that was. His bruises were either gone or, in the case of his face and chest, a sour yellow colour in the late stages of healing, and the white of his right eye had turned a weird greenish-yellow colour due to the bruise from the bleed. His arm was in a sling to help support the cast, but his left hand was free to swing about and open doors despite the casts on three fingers. His lung was fine for the most part now, but his chest still felt uncomfortable, partly because of the surgery but mostly because his entire chest was taped up due to the ribs (although he had been told by the nurses to take the bandages off once he got home, to let him heal naturally without constricting his breathing).

Because of said ribs, in regards to the pain and awkwardness of manoeuvring around them, it took help from his mother to get out of the car. He refused to grimace or show his pain, instead turning towards the reporters and gingerly raising a hand to wave lightly. He usually would have ignored them and gone into the house, but it was important that people out there knew that he was okay, just in case they were in the same boat. People had physical proof now that Itachi had survived it, and if Itachi had survived it, then anyone could. It meant that there was hope, and that the government wasn't going to give up fighting despite setbacks.

He was pleased that something good had come of the attack, at the very least. He could deal with pain and not moving around and ANBU in his home if it meant that a law could be passed sooner rather than the later previously stated.

He was helped up the stairs and then he entered the house himself, confidently and without expression, though when they shut the door he grasped the side of the stair railing to steady himself. He heard Sasuke behind him, and he allowed his brother to assist him up all of the stairs, not entirely confident that he could make it now that he didn't have an image to withhold.

It took ages, but eventually he found himself in his bedroom, exactly the same as he had left it. He cautiously got into bed, irritated that he had to, but endured it, knowing that he would only be in bed  _ longer _ than the many weeks it would take for his ribs to fully heal if he didn't take it easy.

Itachi was convinced that he was going to start carrying around a gun. People wouldn't fuck with him if he carried a Glock around with him, because Itachi would shoot them dead in the face if anyone tried to do something like this to him again.

Except he probably wouldn't, but the thought made him feel a bit better.

***

Sasuke hid a grin.

They had converted the upstairs den into a makeshift dining and kitchen-esque area so Itachi wouldn't have to continuously go down the stairs for food or have to ask for someone to bring it up. Itachi's reaction to the upgrade of sorts had been amusing, a spark of annoyance flashing in his eyes, mostly because it was another dig at his condition. It was pretty legitimate, of course, and would help Itachi out, but it was the fact of the matter.

In a few weeks, Itachi could get right back into the thick of things, but for now he was stuck with the upstairs portion of the house unless he  _ wanted _ to leave, of course, and even then he would be confined to the house and the backyard, due to the scragglers that sat at the gate with cameras.

They all sat down for dinner, happily alone and away from doctors and nurses and ANBU operatives and Prime Ministers. Well, as far as they knew on the ANBU front, since there was no telling where those spooks were lurking. Just the four of them, as a family, eating a simple dinner and conversing in low, amiable tones with each other, getting back into the groove of being at home. All cell phones and other communication devices had been banned, so it was just old-fashioned family camaraderie.

It was weird, because they had always plopped into the living area for dinner unless they were doing their Sunday dinner or having a function. They were pretty standard when it came to meals, getting whatever they wanted six nights a week as they all ate when they felt like it. Perhaps a bit different than other families, who cooked dinner and  _ then _ ate in front of the telly, but they thrived on it, especially since everyone's diets were different. It was hard to have a standardised dinner every night when they all ate so differently, with Itachi's veganism and Fugaku having to be forced to eat vegetables by his wife. Sasuke was pretty picky about his foods too, not really caring for sweet meals, and preferring to have highly nutritious options. And Mikoto didn't eat red meat, so there was that to consider, especially since Fugaku and Sasuke both thrived on lean steak.

It was a Wednesday, and they were eating the same dinner, Fugaku grumbling good-naturedly at the vegan menu as he picked at his cabbage. Itachi smiled lightly at him, scooping up a humble bite in his spoon (which he wasn't happy about using such a Kiri-inspired utensil, but he couldn't use chopsticks with his fingers being broken on his left hand and had no other choice) and toasting almost teasingly before eating his morsel.

They had a fruit dessert afterwards, which even Fugaku couldn't complain about since it was healthy  _ and _ delicious, and then lounged at the table for a good hour, just talking. They chatted about everything between school and algorithms and idiots at work/school and art and the Prime Minister being utterly whipped when it came to his wife and Sasuke's girlfriend and what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives.

On the latter, Fugaku said predictably, “Retire. That's all. I want to retire and move to Lightning and never speak to another fucking Uchiha that isn't direct family until I die. And then I want to haunt them all.”

They had laughed about that, Mikoto eventually saying gently, “I doubt we'll ever get so lucky, dear, but cheers to hoping for a miracle.” They all toasted to that, Fugaku beginning to go pink in the cheeks with the wine, and Itachi glancing at Sasuke with bright eyes shining in amusement.

They passed the time, Sasuke receiving the brunt of the jokes due to his recently 'taken' status, and assured his father under pain of death that she would join them for a more formal Sunday dinner. And by formal, it meant a dining table with three courses made by the chef, and Sasuke was a tad bit nervous about that. Sakura would likely fret about it even though she had eaten over loads of times already, and he wasn't looking forward to the teasing from Naruto about the predicament.

Eventually they all retired, closer to midnight than their usual time frames, Fugaku and Mikoto leading the way as Fugaku grew steadily more intoxicated. It wasn't often that Fugaku would even sip alcohol, but Sasuke had always encouraged the behaviour. Fugaku was a pleasant drunk, always cracking jokes and making statements that he never would've sober, and it never ceased to raise the spirits in the house. They were a relatively tight-lipped family, but occasionally it was nice when Sasuke could just sit back and listen to even Itachi and Mikoto participate in the increasingly inappropriate discussion while throwing in his own witty comments when the time felt right.

Sasuke accompanied Itachi to his room, hopping on the bed and stretching. Itachi bustled around, making a valiant attempt to brush his long hair and teeth in the bathroom and change into pyjama bottoms, opting to go shirtless just to keep himself from moving too much. He didn't need help in the end, though it did take him quite a long time, which Sasuke didn't comment on. Itachi would figure out his methods at his own pace, up until he felt little to no pain from his injuries and went back to normal.

As Itachi sat gingerly on the end of the bed, hair falling down his chest and shoulders, Sasuke teased, “So now that you're a whole different brand of famous, Mr Poster Boy of Delta, does this mean that you're never gonna get out of the house except for school to find yourself a boyfriend?”

Itachi sent him an unamused look before laying down on his back beside Sasuke. For a moment, while Sasuke snickered at Itachi's expense, there was silence as Itachi got comfortable, but then Itachi answered dully, “I'm not going to become a hermit, Sasuke.”

“I don't care if you're a hermit, as long as your potential boyfriend doesn't mind that is,” shot back Sasuke.

Sasuke could sense more than see Itachi's eye roll, and grinned wickedly to himself. It was always so much fun to get under Itachi's skin playfully, trying to break through that careful veneer that Itachi always put on in front of other people, though he knew that Itachi genuinely made an effort to be transparent in front of Sasuke when they were alone. Sasuke appreciated the gesture at any rate, because he hated when Itachi closed off from everyone, including Sasuke himself, and took advantage of every moment he could. Therefore, Sasuke continued innocently, “Besides, you need to  _ loosen up _ anyway.”

Itachi smacked him with his left hand, Sasuke grunting a bit at the casts on Itachi's fingers lending more weight, but the grin on Sasuke's face didn't waver. He didn't necessarily want to know about Itachi's sex life – or lack thereof, to be entirely honest, because Sasuke would bet his hands and eyeballs that his brother was completely inexperienced – but it was still entertaining. So much easier teasing Itachi than guys who dated girls, because Sasuke didn't know a lot of gay guys and couldn't use the plethora of potential jibes on them due to propriety's sake.

When Sasuke's mirth died down a bit, he grew serious. He had always worried about Itachi finding someone, because he didn't want to see Itachi age and die alone. Unfortunately, that had always been a legitimate fear in Sasuke's thoughts, and he knew that he wasn't alone. Though he would likely be unbearably uncomfortable with the development when ( _ if _ ) it ever occurred, Fugaku had made statements regarding Itachi finding someone, about wondering if it would ever happen. Mikoto had gently tried to talk to Sasuke about it before, asking if Sasuke had ever noticed Itachi getting close with anyone, really, friend or otherwise.

Sasuke had always responded with a  _ negative _ .

Itachi was so guarded, so apt to tear himself away from possible companionship because of many reasons, some of which Sasuke would likely never know. Sasuke knew that his brother was afraid of putting himself out there platonically or romantically, so he simply didn't do it, and that would be hard to manoeuvre around should anyone of  _ authentic _ persona actually become interested. Itachi would drive someone away just by being his seemingly cold, emotionless self just so he didn't open himself up to disappointment and hurt.

It was so pessimistic of his brother, especially since he didn't have first-hand experience about the cruelty of human beings emotionally speaking and therefore couldn't make his own decisions, but that was how Itachi operated. Statistic and fact and his own well-being in the long run. That was how Sasuke operated for the most part too, so he understood the sentiment. Sasuke made friends easily, but he didn't  _ like _ people easily, because all too often people were just there for money or the popularity or the notice in Sasuke's case. It was hard determining the genuine people out there from the multitudes of fakes.

But that was where Itachi and Sasuke differed. Sasuke made  _ attempts _ to get to know people, and at the first instance of phony disposition or cruelty he was gone like his arse was on fire; Itachi, on the other hand, didn't even try. Sasuke's attempts to find actual companions had led to friends in the past, and he held onto his friends for life no matter how irritating they got. Sure, he'd distance himself a bit if he needed some time away from massive amounts of stupid, but he latched on to the few important people that he had gathered over the years.

Itachi had Sasuke, Mikoto, and Fugaku, and that was it. He hadn't even tried to find friends of like-mindedness, or a guy just to let off some steam with.

That was important too, letting off some steam. Even Sasuke wasn't a stranger to that. He was reluctant to get into relationships but that didn't mean he was dead either. He had lost his virginity the day before his fifteenth birthday, though he hadn't told his family that since he was certain their heads would explode, and hadn't been exactly celibate before that either. He had had flings in the past, though none since coming to Konoha, and having a girlfriend like the spitfire he had now was likely going to lead to more here too.

He wouldn't force Sakura into anything,  _ obviously _ , since she could clearly murder him and get away with it due to her intelligence, but judging by the heated make-out session right before the call from Itachi's phone, they weren't going to have any problems in  _ that _ department ether. They just had  _ chemistry _ , sexually and otherwise. Sasuke and Sakura just meshed well, though a tiny part of him wondered when that would inevitably crash down. Sakura almost seemed too good to be true, so he was almost waiting for a bombshell in the future.

He wished against it, but still.

Sasuke wondered how Itachi knew that he was gay in the first place. Sasuke had realised that he himself was straight when he was thirteen and an older girl in school had bent over to stretch, showing off her rather nice arse and legs. Sasuke had wondered before then if he would end up gay like Itachi, because he found guys and girls aesthetically pleasing, but that had at least cemented his belief that  _ oh yeah I like girls a lot _ .

An acquaintance in Iwa had explained it perfectly to him one night, when he had been fourteen. ' _ You can find people hot, or attractive, but that doesn't mean you want to bone them. It just means you're human and you like good-looking things around you _ .'

Sasuke couldn't even remember the guy's name now. Could see him perfectly in his head but he'd forgotten his name.

Had Itachi just gotten the same feeling when looking at a guy one day? Somehow, Sasuke couldn't even imagine his brother in the same boat, feeling all googly-eyed looking at another guy's arse. To be entirely direct with himself, as homophobic or judgemental as it sounded, Sasuke had been operating under the assumption that Itachi had been using 'gay' lightly, perhaps in an artistic sense, because  _ clearly _ Itachi was asexual.

Yes, just because someone didn't have sex before they turned eighteen didn't mean that they were asexual, and just because someone stuck to themselves didn't mean that either. But Sasuke just got the impression that Itachi would never really be willing to be vulnerable like that, to give himself to another human being even half-way in any manner. Sasuke couldn't even picture his brother having sex at all, and while that would normally be a weird, incestuous thing to be thinking, it really wasn't. Itachi just didn't seem the type to lose himself in  _ that _ kind of passion, even in a committed relationship should he ever get into one.

Partly because he really was curious, and partly because he knew Itachi would be entirely honest with him, Sasuke asked out loud, “How did you know that you were gay?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Itachi stated blankly, “Please tell me you are not having identity issues so soon after snatching a girlfriend.”

Sasuke was startled out of a laugh, though he understood why Itachi would ask. It was one of those stereotypical phrases that people used when trying to admit something about themselves, though it didn't have to pertain to being gay or whatever. Regardless, he really wasn't having 'identity issues', and was extremely confident and comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex with girls, though he thought both guys and girls were attractive, and flirted with close friends of both genders just because he could. Naruto was the most amusing subject to practise his flirting skills on, because it never ceased to ruffle the boy's feathers and, more often than not, lose the game he was currently playing on his PC or console. Sasuke was completely comfortable with who he was as a person.

“No,” Sasuke assured his brother, glancing over at him lazily. “I'm not having a crisis. I know who I am and what I like. So no, that's not why I'm asking. I just...wonder sometimes, how you knew that you were. What had happened to make you realise it, like that point in your life where the lightbulb above your head flickers on and everything makes sense in the world.”

Itachi turned his head as well, eyes curiously devoid of expression except the barest hint of confusion. They stared at each other in a comfortable silence, side-by-side, before Itachi answered honestly, “It wasn't a point in my life where everything made sense in the world, Sasuke. I never looked at someone and the stars aligned, showing me my future.”

Sasuke frowned. “That's sort of what happened to me though. I'd been conflicted for a while, wondering if I was going to be gay because you were gay and we were brothers, but just one day I saw this girl and everything just clicked for me.”

Itachi's lips curved into a small smile, that tiny smile meant only for Sasuke and the brotherly affection they shared. Sasuke's chest felt tight at seeing it, knowing that his brother would always humour him and be there for him, with that smile on his thinner lips, even if Sasuke was being ridiculous.

Itachi closed his eyes, eyelashes falling gently on his golden cheek, and finally answered softly, earnestly, “I've always just known. I've always just felt it inside of me. It was never a particular person, more of an idea even, that I've always had in my head, of what I want. When I close my eyes and picture what I want my future to be, I see myself on a beach with paint and a cup of good tea and a cat and a man is just there. A man that can shield me from the world out there, keep everything at bay and keep me sane.”

Sasuke just watched him, watching Itachi's eyes flicker behind his thin eyelids as he imagined it in his head, relishing in the moment. Itachi rarely was deep about his own personal thoughts, preferring safer subjects like talking about other people or world events or even art, and Sasuke was touched in a way that Itachi chose to share this particular tidbit with him. Itachi had spoken a few times on what he wanted to do when he got out of the house, but it had never involved the  _ person _ he had in his head. As far as Sasuke was aware, Itachi had never spoken about what it meant to him to like guys before, what he wanted and expected from it (if he expected anything at all). It had always been an abstract concept to Sasuke: Itachi liked men and that was all there was to it.

Except that wasn't true, because there was an entire depth of Itachi that had never come out of the ex-heir's mouth before. No one had never really asked Itachi about any of these things, maybe out of discomfort or perhaps out of consideration of Itachi's highly-valued privacy. Sasuke had gone off on tangents about girls before to his brother, but the same had never been returned from Itachi about boys, which made Sasuke feel guilty. There was no telling how alone and cut off Itachi might've felt simply because the only three people he spoke to could never possibly understand and had never even made an effort to  _ try _ .

Itachi opened his eyes, and there was a wistful expression on his face, something Sasuke had never seen on Itachi's countenance before. “I'm not sure when I became consciously aware of it, but I've always been like this. That's never changed and it never will. I wish I could be more specific to your question, Sasuke,” confided Itachi, still looking lost in his thoughts.

They laid there in companionable silence for ages, likely around fifteen minutes, and Sasuke was nearly on the cusp of dozing off when he asked tiredly, glancing at his brother curiously with heavy eyes, “D'you have a type?”

Itachi looked confused again, and asked, “Why the sudden interest, Sasuke?”

“Maybe I just wanna know your type so I can find you a future husband,” remarked Sasuke with a shit-eating grin, causing Itachi to blink slowly and sigh lightly in exasperation, but then Sasuke let it taper off so he could say quietly, “No, but seriously? I've always told you things like this, and I think it's fair to return the favour. Besides, who better to talk to than your brother, and  _ this _ brother has always been curious if you do or not.”

Itachi looked up at the ceiling, clearly thinking about it. Sasuke gave him a moment, watching Itachi's face flicker in unreadable emotions, before Itachi said, “I'm not sure what you mean by that.”

Sasuke didn't know if Itachi was really unsure of Sasuke meant or was trying to get out of it, but Sasuke wasn't going to let him get out of it that easily. Everyone had a type, even if that type was everyone or specific, and Itachi was no different.  _ Might be like pulling teeth, but he needs to express himself somehow _ , Sasuke thought to himself.  _ If he gets it together in his head on what he's actively interested in instead of simply ignoring it for the sake of staying distant, then maybe it'll clear it up for him and he'll start looking at other people curiously, which could lead to more with someone in the future. Itachi can't be alone forever, and I'm considering it to be my ultimate mission to make sure he's not, even if it comes to bite me in the arse later. _

“Well,” Sasuke mentioned evenly, not daring to smile or snark in case it spooked his brother to the point of clamming up, “d'you prefer dark hair or light hair on a guy?”

Itachi glanced over once again, eyes confused yet again, and that just proved that Itachi had never  _ really _ allowed himself to think about it before. “Why does that matter?” Itachi asked. “A person isn't just based off of hair colour or body type, Sasuke. I'm not vain.”

“No,” Sasuke shot back, “you aren't, but there's nothing wrong with having a fantasy of the perfect man in your eyes. I sure as hell have an idea of what the perfect girl is in my eyes, and I guarantee you that it's not my girlfriend, and I can assure you that the thought is mutual when it comes to me. Besides, Itachi, you're also an artist, and you appreciate beauty, do you not?” Sasuke could tell that he had stumped Itachi just by the slight raise of Itachi's right eyebrow and continued, “I'm not asking you what you want your potential life partner to look like, Itachi. How're you supposed to know if you haven't met that person yet? No, I'm asking you to describe the most perfect vision of a man, no matter how improbable it might be. It's not that hard.”

“'It's not that hard,' he says,” Itachi repeated, distinctly disbelieving and sounding slightly uncomfortable. Sasuke, however, refused to back down, because this would be good for Itachi, perhaps put things into perspective for him.

So to try and relax Itachi enough to elaborate on himself, Sasuke said honestly as he stared at the ceiling, “The perfect girl in my eyes has long, wavy red hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and a body that isn't too feminine. Small hands, small breasts, narrow hips, thin, on the shorter side...I've never been too fond of overly busty girls that focus too much on their assets. Anything more than a handful is a waste, in my opinion, and I don't like large hips even if apparently that's easier on a woman when they're, y'know, having babies and stuff. Regardless, I want to be able to be strong enough to manhandle her all over the room I'm ravishing her in, be able to tower over her when we're standing face-to-face. She's beautiful without make-up, because  _ that's _ what judges how beautiful a person is. I don't want this girl to paint her face on. She has to be genuine. I want her skin to be smooth and tanned, because I want her skin to stand out from mine so I can see where I touch her better. Even teeth that are blindingly white when she smiles, because I want someone with good hygiene that takes care of their teeth.  _ That's _ the perfect girl in my eyes, in just a physical sense, because I'd be here all day if I talked about what I wanted her to  _ be _ like.”

Itachi was quiet for a second and then he said, “Well, it's almost midnight. You must not have a very long list of attributes you'd like her to be as a person.”

Sasuke groaned and brought his arms up to cover his face in mock annoyance. “You suck,” Sasuke grumbled, hiding the grin beneath his arms, but eventually let his arms fall back down and glared good-naturedly at his brother. “See, not hard at all, Itachi. Not even painful. Now it's your turn, and in case you're wondering, I'm not going to use this against you or start bringing guys home for you to meet or something.”

Itachi looked mildly uncomfortable, but Sasuke didn't back down. “Okay,” Itachi said, voice blank, and then took a long moment to think, eyes falling shut again as he pictured it behind his eyelids. Eventually, he said, “I like hands. Bigger hands than mine, stronger. I...like the idea of someone strong in general but I think those overly built men are rather unappealing. Something in the middle, perhaps, lean and not thin. His voice has to be appealing too, masculine instead of feminine. Tall, or at least taller than me I think, and moving with grace and precision because I don't want someone that will trip and fall over all my art when I allow them inside. I want them to look different than me in a way...pale skin, light hair, eyes that can stare at me and jus—”

Itachi's eyes snapped open, with an expression on his face that was so alarming that Sasuke immediately shot up and demanded, “What? What is it? What's wrong?”

Itachi's eyes were glassy and distant, mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something to alleviate Sasuke's fear but couldn't get his vocal chords to work. Sasuke's first thought was that he was in pain, but the expression on his face was more than that. Fear, perhaps, or shock.

“Itachi, you need to talk to me. What's wrong? You need to tell me what's wrong or I'm going to get Father, okay?” Sasuke placed a hand on Itachi's right arm, right above the cast, and could see how the blood had left Itachi's face though the pulse point in his neck was fluttering rapidly.

Nevertheless, Itachi finally blinked and focussed on Sasuke, though his eyes were still conveying the panic that he was feeling in his head. Why, Sasuke didn't know, but he instinctively knew that Itachi wasn't going to tell him anything. It didn't stop him from making a final attempt though, asking gently this time, “What's wrong, Itachi? Are you okay?”

Itachi's voice was shaky, oh-so uncharacteristic, when he answered, “I'm okay. I just thought of something that was disturbing, that's all. I'm sorry for frightening you.”

Despite knowing that Itachi was not giving him everything, Sasuke backed off. If he attempted to get more aggressive in determining Itachi's internal emotions, Itachi would simply break down and refuse to talk at all. “It's alright,” he said gently, understandingly. “I just want you to be okay.”

Itachi slowly was getting himself back in order, and Sasuke was alarmed when he closed off completely, becoming totally unreadable as he squashed his thoughts out of his head. Sasuke opened his mouth to say something, anything really, but Itachi interrupted him with a carefully blank tone, “I need a bit of time alone, please.”

Sasuke sighed, concerned, but sat up and convinced himself to get to his feet. “Are you sure?” he tried once more, almost pleadingly, though he respected that Itachi would need time. At Itachi's short nod, Sasuke managed a smile, and replied, “If you say so. If you need me, I'll be in my room. G'night Itachi.”

Itachi didn't answer, already staring silently out of the window and lost in his own thoughts again, and Sasuke sighed again, softly leaving the room and closing the door behind him. As he walked to his room, he wondered what had spooked Itachi to the point of shutting down.

He reached his room, changed into his own pyjamas, and settled down to sleep. He had his first day of school since his suspension for fighting and Itachi being in the hospital, so he was almost looking forward to getting away from his family and seeing his acquaintances. And girlfriend, of course.

Sleep didn't come for a long time though, due to his brain's unwillingness to shut off.

***

Itachi stared out of the window and tried to force his mind to other things.

He watched as a black-cloaked ANBU operative traversed the grounds, the porcelain mask the only indicator that anyone was lurking at all due to the lack of moonlight. The movements were stealthy, graceful, animal-like almost as the figure moved about, checking for any intruders or simply just out to enjoy the hot, humid weather because it was extremely unlikely anyone would dare try anything on Uchiha grounds.

Itachi wondered if he was hot out there, since it had been an unforgiving day in regards to the heat and humidity. Surely he was dying in that cloak, and Itachi was curious as to why he didn't take it off. It wasn't like it was a secret what ANBU wore underneath the cloaks – occasionally Itachi had seen squadrons of them without them – and furthermore the ANBU had no reason to really be stealthy. If there was, for instance, a sniper out there that was preparing to take all of the ANBU out, however unlikely that might've been, all one would have to look for was that porcelain mask that shone starkly in the darkness surrounding. So what was even the point of not taking off the cloak and showing that bone-white armour and tattooed skin? They wouldn't be any less noticeable with the cloaks, after all.

Thinking of ANBU, even practically, was not helping his situation.

He wanted to paint but he didn't think that he could hold onto a paintbrush confidently, and certainly didn't want to get paint in his casts or on his body in the first place. Besides, he was terrified to paint as well, knowing that if he did paint everything would be silver and black and red and he wouldn't be able to stand it.

No, he needed to think about this, not to convince himself that he was wrong but to acknowledge that he was being foolish.

That was  _ not _ what this was about. He was adamant about that. Itachi had admitted to himself very early on that Crow had had an attractive voice, but that was all. The other likenesses were just coincidence, the silver hair and the gaze that saw through him, the hands covered in gloves that had gently touched Itachi's artwork and the grace in which he had moved around the room. Just because Crow had those characteristics didn't mean that Itachi was forced to be attracted to him, a man that murdered and a man that Itachi knew literally  _ nothing _ about.

He really  _ was _ being foolish.

It was logical for Itachi to think that Crow was alluring and mysterious, because he simply was. And yes, Itachi had gotten the impression that Crow was of a different sort, someone who was driven and yet honest and kind, so it made sense that Itachi, who Crow had broken protocol with, would feel enamoured by the captain. Crow had disobeyed a direct order, for whatever reason he had had, if only to talk to Itachi, and that was...flattering even though it was also ominous.

But it also didn't  _ mean _ anything. How could it, when they knew nothing about each other? Well, it was safe to assume that Crow knew a lot about Itachi from files, but that was different than hobbies, habits, thoughts, dreams. Hell, Itachi didn't know Crow's name, and had never seen his face, so how could he possibly be attracted to a person that, for all intensive purposes, didn't even exist?  _ That _ was illogical in and of itself, and Itachi was a logical person. He thrived in logic.

He stood up, grimacing to himself at the twinge of pain in his chest, and wrapped himself awkwardly in a fleece blanket. He quietly padded down the hallway barefoot, the hardwood floor cool against his feet, and stepped into his studio.

It was dark and still, and he half expected Crow to be here, waiting for him. Though they had only met twice over the weeks since moving to Konohagakure, he still anticipated the man coming from the shadows, porcelain mask trained on a window or on Itachi's art. He wasn't though, and the room was empty and stifling, the air circulation having been turned off in Itachi's absence. The central air was running, but it was so quiet, and he flipped on the ventilation just to have the hum of noise in the background.

Without turning on the lights, he carefully made his way to his cabinets, where the bag of silver, white, and black iridescent paints sat on the canvases innocently. It seemed like only yesterday now that he was picking them up from Sasori-senpai's shop, completely consumed by the need for silver, but now he stared at them and didn't even feel the slightest urge to paint.

He felt a pang of anxiety then, not feeling any inspiration to create something. After months of the inspiration practically keeping him feverish with need, it was frightening to think that maybe it was gone. What if he never gained it back, and he was stuck in this rut for the rest of his life? What if there was a block now and he never gained the ability to paint or draw again?

He went to the windows and watched the ANBU operative disappear. When the slithering figure was out of his site, he used his right hand and cast to hold his blanket in place and the other to begin opening the windows, pulling them open like doors and thankful that he didn't have to yank them up. The blast of hot, humid air was comforting, the smell of the grass and trees and the downpour of rain assaulting his senses after so long indoors, and he simply stood there and took it all in, still clutching the blanket around him with his cast-covered fingers and arm despite the heat that was accumulating.

He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and whipped to the shadow, clenching his teeth to hide the hiss of pain.

It was a captain but it wasn't Crow. The white cloak seemed more menacing than Crow's cloak in a way, the much taller and bulky body more threatening, and the mask with a beak and painted with razor sharp strokes appeared more sinister as well. It caused his heart to jump into his throat, his fear palpable in the studio, but he refused to show said fear outwardly, staring death in the face and refusing to blink.

They stared at each other for a long moment before the foreign captain raised a hand and signed something that Itachi couldn't comprehend. Itachi watched the gesture, trying to understand, and the captain finally simplified it. He pointed to Itachi once, then made an  _ O _ with his fingers and then a rough version of a  _ K _ .

Itachi blinked, then nodded once, tense and defensive. The captain watched him for a moment, then pointed for the second time, with two hands made a sign like a bird flying away, then pointed again.

Itachi still didn't understand, but he took a guess and answered in a blank voice, “I'm not leaving, if that's what you're asking. It's just a window.”

The captain stilled, completely motionless like a statue, before suddenly he spoke in a rough, gravelly voice, “Would you prefer Crow, Uchiha-sama? He is on duty and can be here in two minutes at the most.”

Itachi's eyes, narrowed behind his glasses, took in that baleful mask and asked through the fear, “Why do you speak to me? I do not understand.” And he didn't. Why were all of these people talking to him? It was against their code of behaviour, against their swear when they had joined the secretive ranks of the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, and this was the second captain that had spoken to him as if that didn't matter. Were the captains bound by different rules? No that couldn't be, because one of the first things Crow had ever said to him was that they were not allowed to speak to anyone unless they were the Emperor, and therefore they couldn't have been held by different standards. Well, unless Crow had lied through his teeth.

“It is not my place to enlighten you, Uchiha-sama,” answered the captain in his rough, deep voice. “We simply ask that you do not mention it to your family or acquaintances.”

Itachi didn't even know what to say so he simply said nothing at all. How  _ could _ he respond? They were asking him to keep secrets now and it terrified him. He knew that the captain could see his pulse fluttering dangerously in his neck, the defensive way that he had clenched the blanket around his half-naked form. Surely he knew that Itachi was on the verge of a heart attack because he didn't know what the hell was going on or why it was happening.

One thing he did know was that he wanted this captain out of his studio, out of his head, but before he could think of how to politely ask the spook to bugger off, he heard himself say without accord, “Yes, I would prefer Crow, thank you.”

The captain didn't respond, instead immediately leaving Itachi's studio with the door wide open.

The second the white cloak disappeared Itachi nearly lost his head.  _ Why _ had he done that?!  _ Why _ had he  _ asked _ for that?! It made no sense! He should've just asked the captain to leave and never come back, but instead he had asked for  _ Crow _ ? He was trying to figure out his thoughts about that man, for crying out loud! He had practically  _ described _ him when trying to tell Sasuke what he wanted in a man, and he needed to  _ distance _ himself before he went completely insane!

Itachi tried, he honestly did, to pull himself together, turning back towards the window to watch the rainstorm so he could calm himself down, but he was starting to hyperventilate. He couldn't even stop himself, and his legs went weak through the surge of alarm and oxygen that burned in his blood. What would he say? How would he  _ react _ ? Well obviously he was going to give a terrible impression since he was having a panic attack on the fucking floor, because he felt his legs give out and his knees hit the hardwood hard, sitting on the backs of his legs and bending over despite his aching ribs.

He tried to breathe, his lungs and ribs burning from overexertion and his knees aching, and suddenly there was a soothing voice in his ear and hands touching his shoulders and a body behind him, attempting to coax him out of the attack but how could he? Itachi wasn't  _ stupid _ , and he knew that these fucking ghosts only spoke to the Emperor and to each other, and what did  _ that _ mean then? Crow had made statements regarding it before and Itachi had merely tried to not think about it, about the fact that apparently he would be a good operative if only “he could work a bit harder on masking his genuflection,” as Crow had said before.

He wasn't doing a very good job of that now, that was for sure.

“Breathe with me,” Crow's voice said, and arms were pulling him up until Itachi's back was flush against another body. He could feel Crow's chest expanding against his back, and he vaguely realised that he was following the pattern instinctively – five seconds inhaling, holding his breath for two seconds, and then slowly exhaling – over and over again, until the carbon dioxide evened out with the oxygen and Itachi could feel his racing heartbeat slowing and his awareness returning.

He could feel tears on his cheeks, but he didn't have the energy to wipe them away. Furthermore, his arms were pinned by his sides by Crow, his gloved hands gently holding Itachi's clenched fingers in Itachi's own lap, and he wondered if he was supposed to feel fear because that was what those men had done to him in order to keep him from fighting back or running away. His legs hurt from the position he was in, all the blood not circulating in his lower legs, but he couldn't even move himself, content to just sit there and attempt to feel normal again.

“You speak to me because you want to recruit me, don't you?” he asked, his voice raw from the hyperventilation, and he almost didn't want Crow to answer him. If he answered in the negative, Itachi would be just as confused as before, because why would they speak to him if that wasn't the case? On the other hand, if Crow answered in the affirmative, then what was he supposed to say, let alone think or feel? Could he even turn something like that down? Would they kill him if he said no, and therefore would be pressured to accept the invitation? He didn't  _ know _ , and that petrified him.

He knew, perhaps instinctively and because of Crow, that all ANBU weren't sadistic freaks that got off on their violent and despicable jobs, but he still wanted no part in it. Besides, he wasn't cut out for it. Between the cancer that would inevitably return, the fact that he apparently couldn't defend himself enough to escape the beating he had lived through, and the inescapable reality that his family would never allow it to ever happen, he wouldn't even be applicable in the first place. The scandal that would result would completely destroy the Uchiha, and Delta no doubt, because it would solidify that the Uchiha were nothing more than emotionless, sadistic freaks that could only hurt and destroy things, and that gay people were only good at hurting people and fucking little kids like some of the more conservative opposition thought.

People respected the ANBU, but they were disgusted by them just as much. Itachi himself had believed that too before meeting Crow, and even now he was disgusted by the idea of it.

Crow said nothing for the longest time, his gloved thumbs absently brushing the sides of Itachi's hands and his chest continuing to expand and contract against Itachi's back. Despite the frantic thoughts that bulldozed through Itachi's head, Itachi felt incredibly safe in that moment, just being cradled in another person's arms. Was this what it felt like, feeling content with someone besides his family? What was the flutter in his stomach that almost felt like nausea, and why was his heart pounding fast despite the fact that he finally felt a semblance of calm? He didn't understand why, despite his aching chest and legs, he felt so comfortable and protected here.

Then, almost with a pang of regret in his tone, Crow answered plainly, “Yes.”

Itachi shuddered violently, and he knew that Crow felt it because his arms tightened around Itachi's body. He felt so small surrounded by the man, so utterly fragile because he knew that the captain could break him to pieces if he wanted to. It wouldn't be hard, especially because his body was still healing from the previous breaks, and in a way he almost wished that Crow would do it, if only so he could  _ stop thinking _ .

Crow continued in a low timbre, “The idea was brought up months ago by our delegation. We continuously survey younger individuals spanning over years, to see if we can find apt persons that fit the criteria. There has been mixed feelings about you, because while you are incredibly intelligent and fit the temperament of a good operative, you are still a potential liability.”

“Liability?” Itachi heard himself say, almost pleased that he was being considered as such. The less positive things they could come up with to induct him, the better, though he almost felt upset that the ANBU were considering him a liability in the first place. After all, it was normal for human beings to seek out individuals stronger than themselves in order to achieve validation that they were worth something, and Itachi was not immune.

Crow answered lightly, “While your family would be an issue, this is not our primary concern. Your illness would be a liability, that is all. It is very likely that it will return, though there is no viable evidence that proves that it will be any time soon, which is the argument that is being made. We have had operatives within our ranks before with debilitating illnesses and further issues, and they have done phenomenal work. If you were offered an invitation, you would likely be in an intelligence and recon cell, without much field work past yellow restrictions. Essentially, you wouldn't be out there killing people. You wouldn't be part of that eleven per-cent, just-Itachi.”

“No, I would be helping that eleven per-cent get the information necessary to complete said mission of killing people,” Itachi whispered, lowering his head and allowing his hair to hide his face like a veil. In his line of vision, his sight surrounded by long strands of soft black, he could see that the sleeves of the cloak Crow wore had been pulled up slightly, showing the tops of his black gloves and pale, masculine arms dusted with silvery hair before the first hint of the arm-guards that shielded his forearms. Itachi's hands and arms were swallowed by the cloak and the large hands that gently held and stroked his own, and the fluttery feeling in his stomach increased ten-fold at the sight. He tried to stop it, to calm himself down, but watched as his fingers moved without reason, interlinking their fingers together, only lightly due to the casts.

When Crow stilled behind him from the action, Itachi suddenly felt  _ everything _ . He felt how warm his hands were, interlaced with those slender black gloves and the hands inside of them. He felt every even breath that came from the man behind him, slow and methodical and comforting. He felt every centimetre of the arms that were wrapped around him so securely. He felt the porcelain against his hair, slightly cold but warming at the contact against the soft black strands that fell over Itachi's blanket-covered shoulders, back, and chest. He could feel Crow's legs around the outside of his thighs and hips, pushed against him securely as he was pressed against the captain's front. He could feel the  _ heat _ of him, almost stifling with the hot breeze that came through the open windows and the fleece blanket shielding him, but he didn't even care that he was starting to sweat, and that his heart was beating so rapidly that it was likely pumping air instead of blood, that every part of him tingled with the contact, that his eyes closed and he had to fully concentrate on controlling his breathing.

Itachi wasn't an idiot by any means, but he could be dense about certain things in his life. In a way, he was a bit socially defective, and he had figured out ways to work around that in the best way that he could. However, he hadn't really understood attraction before, because he simply had never  _ really _ felt it. There had been phantom moments, of course – he was seventeen, after all, and though he wasn't a sexual being, he still felt things like arousal – but it had never really been  _ attraction _ . Just the idea of it, he reckoned, and had dealt with it accordingly.

He understood it  _ now _ , though, even if every part of his head was screaming at him that he was being insane.

He hated that he felt it, and his mind warred with itself, debating on whether to pull away and get much-needed distance or whether to lean back further into Crow's embrace. He didn't know the first thing about attraction and how to deal with it, and he certainly didn't know the first thing about Crow himself. He didn't know what he was doing, or what had prompted this feeling in the first place. How could he become attracted to a nameless, faceless man that he had only seen and talked to twice?

_ The same way people are attracted to others when they first meet, hence one-night stands _ , a tiny voice said behind all of the bellowing of conflicting thoughts in his brain.

Itachi wasn't that type of person. He wasn't. He had never been and never would be. He didn't have it in him, to give away his affections so callously. And what had Crow really done to deserve such affection anyway? The first time they had met and talked, Itachi had been terrified of being murdered by the captain, and the second time he hadn't felt the fear but instead something confusing. Perhaps camaraderie? Apprehension? Crow had been inside his head that time, looking at his thoughts and emotions that he put onto canvas and paper, so delicate in his investigation.

Investigation. Because that's what they were doing,  _ investigating _ him. For potential  _ recruitment _ .

He opened his eyes at the thought just as Crow said in a low, almost rough tone, “This is highly inappropriate.”

“It is,” Itachi agreed, finally getting control over the shrieking in his head and his erratic heartbeat, mentally smacking himself. He  _ was _ being highly inappropriate, and just because he felt attraction for some God awful reason didn't mean that Crow did as well. He probably had a wife and two kids at home, which would consist of a white picket fence and blue shutters and a dog.

He felt embarrassed and went to pull his hands away, only to find that Crow's grip on his hands tightened in response, refusing to let him go.

They sat there in silence, Itachi feeling unbearably hot and sticky with sweat in the comfort of Crow's body, just breathing. He didn't want to know what this meant either, the fact that Crow didn't allow him to shy away, burying his porcelain mask in Itachi's hair like he was smelling the strands or his body heat even, his grasp tight on Itachi's smaller hands and his embrace secure.

Itachi almost wanted to ask him why he hadn't allowed Itachi to pull away if he thought that the situation was highly inappropriate, but didn't want to hear the answer. He wasn't sure if he could take the confirmation of what this possibly meant, what could come of this if they both allowed it.

Because there was no other explanation to be had. There was no way in hell Crow didn't know that Itachi was attracted to him, because he had actively grasped the captain's hands and even let him into his head by granting him access to the studio freely. He had  _ asked _ for Crow by name, even, and if that wasn't a telling statement then nothing could be. And Itachi knew just by Crow's reaction to Itachi pulling away that it was, even if just a little, a reciprocated emotion. He had comforted him when it would've been easier and more proper to let Itachi suffer through the panic attack alone. He had given Itachi back his scribbled piece from the hotel, and then had willingly watched Itachi work, had looked at all of Itachi's pieces and complimented them at his own free will. He had talked to him, alleviated fears and brought about more, and stared at him so consumingly through the eye-slits of that mask.

It was all but impossible to ignore the signs on both ends.

“Your heart is racing,” Crow mentioned quietly, his voice oh-so deep and alluring, and Itachi finally straightened his back even further against Crow's chest, lifting his head and feeling Crow move himself to allow the shift. Itachi turned his head slightly to the left and leant back, feeling the strong fabric of Crow's cloak against his cheek. He could feel the press of his bulletproof, bone white vest through the fabric, and he could even feel Crow's collarbone as well, and he realised that he was close enough to kiss the man for the first time since becoming fully aware of his position between Crow's legs.

“Is it?” breathed Itachi, wondering if Crow would miss his words with the steady downpour outside, exhaling softly against the warm fabric as he studied the pattern of his cloak through the mediocre light that came through the windows. He could feel Crow untangling their fingers so he could caress the skin of Itachi's left wrist and the cast on his right arm, and he felt his skin erupt in gooseflesh, fighting the urge to shudder once again in Crow's arms.

“Indeed,” Crow replied, just as softly, his word a mere rumble in the pit of his chest that Itachi could feel against his cheek even with all of the layers. Everything felt so surreal, so supercharged with tension and electricity, and  _ god _ he suddenly wanted to press his lips against any piece of flesh he could find on the captain behind him. His mouth was practically watering at the thought of it, wondering what he would taste like, if he would be salty from sweat underneath that cloak that hid almost all of him from Itachi's eyes.

And softly, Crow touched the edge of Itachi's blanket, the stifling hot thing, and asked, “Will you let me see? I want to see how badly you're still hurt.”

Itachi would be so vulnerable in front of him. He supposed it was no different than swimming in the pool at the gym, but he was a stranger to this circumstance. He would be alone with another man that was clearly feeling the same pull that Itachi was, and he would be completely bare from the waist up. Perhaps it was innocent in a way, because Itachi couldn't do much of anything in his condition, but he still felt anxiety over it.

But he was burning in his skin, both from the humidity and from his own arousal, though he had been able to control his body enough to not let said arousal be visible to any eye. And he felt safe here, although he still didn't understand  _ why _ because he didn't even know this man except that he had hurt other human beings in his line of work.

Instead of shrugging off the blanket, which might've been the smarter action, he heard himself whisper, “Okay, you can do that.”

He felt those hands move up his arms, the electrifying tingles following his ministrations, as the movements began slowly loosening the blanket around his form. He felt Crow shift behind him, and Itachi pulled himself up away from Crow's chest so he could move himself. It allowed the blanket that had been trapped in between the two halves of his legs to be removed, and suddenly he felt so much cooler and yet still on fire as his skin was finally on display for Crow's eyes to see. His legs were tingling themselves, the blood beginning to circulate in his lower extremities once again.

The captain lifted himself to his knees as well, pressing once again to Itachi's chest as his porcelain mask leant over his shoulder, taking in the damage of it from a high vantage point. Long, gloved fingers traced the stitches from the stab wounds and the chest tube, stitches that were nearly ready to be taken out, and the blackish-green and yellow bruises from the kicks and the punches, before tracing every rib that lightly protruded. Itachi wasn't skinny by any means but he had always been thin. Even with the definition from swimming and his trips to the gym, he could still see the vague outline of his ribs no matter how much weight he put on, and those fingers traced every single one of them so gently as to not cause him any pain.

He could feel his entire body shiver at the contact, Crow's fingers tracing every line and angle of him, outlining every bruise and cut and scar. He traced Itachi's sides with feather-light touches, before pulling away and inspecting his back. He heard the captain breathe out a small sigh and wondered how bad it looked even after two weeks since the incident, because he knew that his back had received the majority of the pummelling. A single finger drew a line from the nape of Itachi's neck to the end of his spine, right above the start of Itachi's pyjama bottoms, feeling every bump of his vertebra, before branching out and running his hands lightly up Itachi's skin.

The hands traced his arms, right to the cast on his right side and to his fingers on the left, and then back up, kneading his shoulders deliciously. Itachi couldn't even help the small sound that resulted from his own throat, biting his lip to keep it in, but it felt so good to have the muscles worked on, and he almost wished that Crow would never stop. When he did, Itachi felt those hands trace his sides once more before Crow's body heat left and Itachi was left alone.

He heard Crow stand up, but he didn't open his eyes, staying elevated on his knees and committing the feeling of Crow's hands on him to memory. There was a rustle but he ignored it, because he needed to remember this moment with everything he had, because Itachi didn't know if they would ever have this opportunity again. Talking to the ANBU in general was one thing, especially if they were seriously considering their attempt to recruit him, but being so intimate with one was likely against the rules one hundred per-cent.

He wished so greatly at that moment that he was at full health, because there was no telling what those hands could do to him if he was fully recovered and he wasn't sure if they'd ever get the chance to do such in the future.

Or if he wanted it in the first place. His mind was too clouded for sound decisions right then.

“Open your eyes,” Crow murmured, and Itachi obeyed slowly, the world coming back into focus behind his glasses. Crow was directly in front of him, and Itachi's mouth went completely dry at the sight of him, because  _ dear god he was attractive _ .

He still had on the porcelain mask, but the cloak was gone, mercifully gone. In its place was a man with the standard ANBU gear on, gear that accented Crow's lean, wiry body as he leant against the wall in between two windows. His hair, silver and bright even without the moonlight, shown in the dark room, unruly and beautiful. His upper body had on the bulletproof vest, but underneath it was a sleeveless black shirt with an attached mask that disappeared behind the porcelain one. It showed off his sinewy arms magnificently, every muscle and tendon and vein showing where the arm-guards did not cover, and the black ANBU tattoo on his left bicep showed in high relief against his glistening, pale skin. His hands, lusciously bare, were gorgeous, long-fingered with veins lightly protruding from the tops, so masculine and strong, and he longed to feel those fingers against his skin. His legs were propped at ninety-degree angles from the floor and his legs were lightly spread, his position utterly  _ male _ , clad in loose but still form-fitting black bottoms with the shin guards in place and boots on his feet.

Itachi couldn't help but stare at the man, and was thankful that his mouth was dry because otherwise he might've been drooling, and how very teen-age of him to think such things.

He most definitely felt his age now, like an inexperienced teen-ager that was finally experiencing overwhelming lust for the first time. And that was honestly the truth too, because he honestly couldn't keep the blood from finally pooling below the waist and in his cheeks, since this utterly gorgeous specimen of  _ man _ was within touching distance and he had no inclination to let such an opportunity go to waste.

“Come here,” Crow said, and Itachi wouldn't have disobeyed even if the world was dying.

He scooted closer on his knees and finally stopped in between those legs, wishing that he had full function of his hands because he wanted to feel every crevice of Crow's body, wanted to feel every dip between muscles and feel the brush of hair against his fingertips as he ran his hands down those arms. He hated that he was broken, but at least he had partial functionality of his left hand, and he put it to good use.

Crow cocked his head when Itachi's unbroken index finger brushed the cool ANBU mask, running along the lines that had been painted on with scarlet, vaguely surprised that the mask wasn't  _ actual _ porcelain but instead of some sturdy, unknown material. He wondered if he could take it off, but decided against it, because if Crow had wanted it off he would've taken it off, and Itachi didn't dare take things further than that. Instead, he lightly traced the thin mask that covered his throat, feeling the Adam's apple and tendons in his neck before he traced down one bare shoulder, feeling the slickness of Crow's sweaty skin. It really was unbearably hot in the studio, though the arousal wasn't helping matters at all, but nevertheless he glanced up into eyes that were glittering and shadowed behind the eye-slits of the mask and heard himself ask, “What...can I do?”

Crow sighed and replied, “You're hurt. You move and try to hide the pain from me, but I'm trained to look for it and you can't hide from these eyes.” Nevertheless, Itachi could see the light tremors in his body that Crow either didn't bother to hide or  _ couldn't _ hide, showing how affected he was, so Itachi simply leant forward and placed his forehead in the centre of Crow's chest, right in the middle of the armour, and breathed, trying to still his blood and racing heart.

Crow's arms wrapped around his neck, burying his fingers in Itachi's loose hair, and the ex-heir could feel the porcelain mask gently touch the top of his head. Itachi felt his eyes droop behind his glasses as his body relaxed and cooled, adrenaline and pain easing down, though the heat in the room itself only helped in bringing him to this inevitable crash.

Itachi didn't know how long he stayed there, curled in Crow's arms and warmth, on the cusp of sleep but trying desperately to stay awake. He could hear the rain pound steadily, a beating tempo that lulled him to complete comfort, and he really just wanted to sleep for the first time in ages. However, he knew that he couldn't, not here and not with this man, so he forced himself to open his eyes and blearily push himself upright.

Crow watched him as he stood, not offering to help despite Itachi's injuries, and Itachi appreciated the gesture because he was not an invalid or some masculine form of a damsel in distress. From his standing point, looking down into Crow's mask, he could see Crow's eyes glittering behind the eye-slits and Itachi knew instinctively that Crow was amused. Maybe it was front the small, sleepy smile that was beginning to curl Itachi's lips or about what had just transpired between them, but Itachi was willing to put money on it being the fact that Itachi reached out with his unbroken arm as if offering Crow a hand up.

Crow reached for Itachi and accepted the help, but judging by the lack of weight on Itachi's forearm and the nimble way Crow hopped up, it was simply for show. It made the small smile widen on Itachi's lips, and he shifted his eyes to the ground to try and hide it. He traced a pattern on the hardwood floor with his tired, bespectacled eyes as he felt Crow move close, trying to calm the urge to snicker. The blanket was draped back over Itachi's narrow shoulders, and Itachi dared to look back up as he murmured in modest appreciation.

The smile faded as he looked up into that porcelain-esque mask, and then Itachi whispered, “Good night, Crow.” He felt his left hand twitch, wondering if he should do something more concrete, but Itachi had no idea what he was doing and simply nodded once before turning towards the door.

Crow did not say a word in return.

Itachi fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, a smile on his face.


	9. May He Live Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one. Sure, there's some character development and god forbid a focus on someone besides Itachi, but still. I don't know why, but I just fell all meh about this one. Regardless, it's one of those obligatory chapters, and I'm curious as to whether or not the now-twelve people who are reading this will respond positively or negatively to the bombshell that is the Emperor. Trust me, I got plans for that one, bitches. Anyway, this is unbeta'd like usual and blah-blah-blah, and happy reading I suppose.

Chapter Nine  
 _May He Live Forever_

"Everything you read in newspapers is absolutely true, except for that rare story of which you happen to have first-hand knowledge."  
 _Erwin Knoll_

The first time Sasuke met Hatake Sakumo, every hair on his body stood up.

Maybe it was because of the sheer power of the man, because Sakumo was literally the most powerful man in Fire Country and was dearly beloved by his clan and people, but Sasuke figured it was the general aura that the man had swirling about him. Hatake Sakumo reminded Sasuke of a powerful thunderstorm, crackling with white electricity that had been tamed by the man's sheer force of will and concrete morales.

Fugaku bowed low, his entire torso parallel to the ground, and Sasuke quickly followed, breaking his eyes away from the white-suited figure before them. They both held the bow for a brief moment until Sasuke heard Sakumo murmur lightly, "Please, do straighten yourselves."

Sasuke followed his father in straightening back up, knowing that his posture was uncharacteristically rigid but not caring in the slightest. Hatake Sakumo was a force to be reckoned with, and Sasuke would rather throw himself off a cliff than be anything but ceaselessly and unnervingly polite in the man's presence.

"Please, let us sit," Sakumo said, his voice deep and soothing, rumbling in his broad chest. A small smile curved his thinnish lips, accentuating his already attractive features greatly, and Fugaku replied in the affirmative politely before Sakumo sat down in the chair behind his mahogany desk.

Sasuke focussed his eyes on Sakumo's chin, uncomfortable with the idea of meeting the man's eyes, as Sakumo finally spoke in his calming voice, "Thank you for meeting me here. I know this is very untoward, but it could not be helped. I would have invited you and your heir sooner, but I reckoned that you would want to be with your family for a while."

"I appreciate your sincerity and patience, my Tennō. It is gracious of you to give us such leisure," said Fugaku, his voice low and humble.

Sakumo's eyes went unimaginably sad as he said quietly, "I completely understand the fear of losing a child. I am grateful that you did not have to bear such a tragedy. It is unbelievably painful to outlive a son." There was a moment of heavy silence, Sasuke feeling an unexpected surge of sorrowfulness in the wake of Sakumo's long-ago loss.

It had been a widely publicised event at the time. Sasuke had been eight whenever the news had broke that Hatake Sakumo's son, the nineteen-year-old heir apparent to the Hatake clan and the throne, had been killed in an automobile accident. The entire country had mourned alongside the clan, holding vigils and ceremonies and festivals to remember Hatake Kakashi, and it was now a yearly mourning period for the entirety of Fire Country. Sasuke's family always held a private vigil themselves, praying to _Amaterasu_ to keep Hatake Sakumo strong for another year of being without his son.

Sasuke still remembered the eighth of July. He had been at primary when the televisions had started airing the breaking news. Sakumo was beloved to his people, and because of that the media had taken hold of the sudden, unexpected tragedy – however, no one criticised the family for any perceived wrong-doing or lack thereof in respect of the Hatake.

He had watched as teachers whispered amongst themselves, eventually leading to televisions being on during class. No school work had been done or assigned as everyone took in the news, and though Sasuke had been too young to really understand the significance of the Crown Prince of the Fire Country dying, he had still felt the pressing sadness. He had gone home that day, early because of schools being cancelled, and had listened to his mother and father talk about it in hushed voices, out of the way to keep from being heard. He had finally left the darkened doorway of the Takigakure home to find Itachi, who hadn't been painting but instead staring out the window to the breathtaking falls in the distance.

Itachi had explained the meaning behind the heir's death, finally getting Sasuke to understand what it meant that the Hatake line had all but died out. With Hatake Kakashi dead and no other heir to take the throne, Fire Country would be wrought with greed and disparity as the clan heads fought for who would be chosen to ascend to the throne. Furthermore, with Sakumo's death, the direct lineage of _Amaterasu_ would disappear from the world, and the _kami_ would surely suffer from it though not perish.

Of course, Sakumo was barely forty-seven and was in such good health that it seemed incredibly unlikely that the man would simply die, but the human body was temperamental at best and the world didn't know if he would end up perishing early like his son. Despite Sakumo's overwhelming popularity with not only Fire Country but the other countries as well, there were still people who did not care for his manner of guiding the greatest country on the globe. They did not care for his appointment of Namikaze Minato as Prime Minister, or his left-leaning policy, or the obvious power he had that others lusted for. He constantly had death threats from factions, there were assassination attempts, and while the ANBU were unparalleled in their efficiency to keep Sakumo from harm, they weren't omnipotent. They had faults, and occasionally they did make mistakes. Hatake Kakashi's car accident was a prime example, because the man who had impacted the vehicle at eighty plus miles per hour had gotten through the circle of ANBU protecting the Crown Prince and intentionally killed his target.

The ANBU were standing in point in the room that Sasuke sat at, and he wondered if Sakumo really trusted them after the fact. If it had been Sasuke sitting in Sakumo's seat, and Sasuke had lost a son due to the ANBU's inability to act fast enough to stop the accident, Sasuke would have dismissed them permanently and created a new force to protect him. After all, the clans were practically in a political war with each other, because an heir to the throne needed to be announced and all of the clans wanted a piece of that legacy. It wouldn't have even been an issue if the ANBU had done their jobs and protected the heir.

Sasuke knew that that wasn't fair though, because the ANBU were notorious for doing their job with almost brutal efficiency, and that without the ANBU's diligence a lot of people would be dead including Hatake Sakumo, but still. It would've been a sore subject to be sure.

Sasuke was pulled out of his swirling thoughts when Sakumo finally sighed and said, "Regardless, we are here to talk about Delta, are we not?"

"Yes, my Tennō. I do appreciate the summon so we can speak of it," replied Fugaku politely.

"It is belated at best already, Uchiha-sama," answered Sakumo, all traces of that unfathomable sadness gone from his ageing but handsome face. "I am certainly pleased that you have brought your heir with you as well, for it could take many years for Delta to be common-spread and will surely involve your youngest whenever he takes your spot as clan head. I have heard that he is an intelligent one with a strong sense of honour and judgement, and I look forward to seeing his opinion on this subject."

Sasuke was daft enough to think that this was simply a social call in regards to Delta though, despite Sakumo's insistence on the matter. Sasuke was pretty sure that he was the only clan heir that hadn't met Sakumo at least once, and Fugaku surely wanted Sasuke to be on his best behaviour. Just in case that the Uchiha ended up being the chosen clan to take over Fire once Sakumo passed. That thought made a burst of nerves explode in Sasuke's chest, because he was looking forward to inheriting UI, not the most powerful country on the planet. He wanted to play with tech and boss people around, not focus solely in politics and military development.

Sasuke knew that he would take the position if offered, because it was the greatest honour imaginable, but it didn't mean that he yearned for it. It freaked him out to be honest, and he didn't even want to imagine what his relationship with his family would be like after becoming _their_ boss. And besides, Sasuke had a temper and wasn't exactly a people person, though he could fake it almost as well as Itachi, and didn't know what he would do if he had that much power at his disposal. Probably take over the world or something atrocious, at least until Itachi knocked him off his high and mighty pedestal and forced him to be humble.

Sasuke bowed his head respectfully to the Emperor of Fire Country and then murmured respectfully to Sakumo, "Thank you, my Tennō."

* * *

Sakura had on a cute little white sundress that was modest yet flattering at once.

She had clearly gone through a bit of personal grooming while preparing herself for her first official dinner with her new boyfriend's family, a process that had likely taken a few hours and Yamanaka Ino to get in order. It was almost charming really, because all of them had seen Sakura in her natural element before – various shorts and jeans that were shapely but clearly worn from use and her mad skateboarding habit, shirts with band or sports logos or simple light tops of bright colours, a mess of mismatched jewellery, shoes that tended to be loose and untied, and a messy ponytail that usually was falling out by the end of the day – so it was amusing to see that she had made a genuine effort of looking, well, a bit more formal-esque. After all, the girl was extremely attractive even in the most threadbare, natty looking clothing, but she looked stunning as she entered their home in that sundress, a nervous Sasuke holding her hand tightly.

Not that it really mattered. As far as Itachi was aware, she had already been accepted into the fold of things. She could've worn a paper bag or her usual clothes and Mikoto would've continued to dote on her.

They all sat around the table upstairs, getting comfortable at the new dining area since Itachi wasn't allowed to make his way up and down the stairs. His parents had really gone all out, probably to impress the poor girl though she would likely be embarrassed by the extravagant meal they had concocted via the personal chef. After all, it wasn't exactly a secret that Sakura wasn't part of any clan and also didn't have an abundance of money like the Uchiha did, so the _kaiseki_ would likely fluster her because she wouldn't be used to such an excessive display.

Leave it to Fugaku to throw around money to make an impression. Itachi would've thought that he would've been wary to do such things, because it was well known that women tended to attempt to get close in order to get their hands on the Uchiha fortune, but the entire Uchiha household was pretty sure Sakura was pretty genuine. For once, Sasuke was dating her, which meant she wasn't an air-headed money grabber. Furthermore, she hung out with the Prime Minister's kid consistently and hadn't made a move on Naruto despite the kid's obvious infatuation with her. Hell, she smacked him quite often, really.

Itachi was pleased that she wasn't with Sasuke for the money. Perhaps his _don't hurt my brother or I'll bury you in the garden_ speech wouldn't have to be long-winded after all.

The table was set elegantly, in traditional Japanese style, and they all settled into soft conversation as they waited for the first course of the _kaiseki_ to be delivered. Obviously, Fugaku was the first to speak directly to Sakura, saying gruffly, "Thank you for joining us for a more formal dinner, Sakura."

"Thank you for inviting me, sir," she replied, her cheeks a bit red and her words a bit too polite for Itachi's comfort. Itachi vaguely wondered how long the formality would continue before someone started the teasing, though he knew it would come from Fugaku when he had a bit more sake in his system. Fugaku was certainly a pleasant drinker, that was for sure.

Itachi almost wanted to say something a bit teasingly, just to get it over with.

Sasuke looked even more nervous than before, probably because of the unnerving politeness. While Sakura had always been polite while at their home, dining or not, she had always been comfortable and playful in a way, so seeing her so tense was a bit strange. Itachi watched Sasuke subtly reach out to grasp Sakura's hand, clearly trying to offer some sort of comfort. It made a small smile pop up on Itachi's lips, because while Itachi was still under the opinion that Sasuke wasn't allowed to have a serious girlfriend until he was forty at least, he still found it rather endearing to watch his brother grow up.

Sakura took a deep breath as Sasuke squeezed her hand and seemed to ease up a bit. She smiled brightly and added, "And thank you as well, Uchiha-sama. I'm glad that you've all invited me, although I'll admit that I'm a bit nervous."

"Don't be nervous," said Sasuke with a small smirk as the _sakizuke_ was brought out. "You've only eaten over a thousand times since I met you. The only difference now is that the food is a bit more fancy."

Sakura sent him a pointed look that screamed ' _Really, Sasuke, the only difference?_ ' before she rolled her eyes good-naturedly and replied, "Sasuke's a real charmer, isn't he?"

Itachi raised his cast-covered fingers to cover the smile that was growing wider on his face, whereas Mikoto's eyes twinkled. Fugaku watched the exchange quietly, eyes a bit guarded but a flicker of amusement beginning to show within the deep brown depths regardless.

"Oh please, I'm the most magnificent human being in existence, Sakura. You should know that and recognise it by now," answered Sasuke, a shit-eating grin on his face, in which Sakura groaned in exasperation and smacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"We might need to open some windows, Uchiha-sama, so his ego can have room to expand. I'm afraid it won't completely fit in this room any more, or in fact in this entire home," returned Sakura, smiling lightly at Mikoto. The smile was returned, and Itachi distracted himself by eating the bite-sized appetizer to keep himself occupied. He refused to enable his parents' teasing by including his own jabs at the new couple. For one, he wasn't fond of embarrassing people – though he did tease his younger brother on a regular basis – and secondly, he didn't want to traumatise the girl. His family understood his dry, almost non-existent sense of humour, but he didn't want to give her the wrong idea. He liked the girl, even if he was still of the opinion that Sasuke needed to wait a good thirty years or so to have a girlfriend, and didn't really want to scare her away. He could tell that Sasuke actually liked her, and didn't want to get in the way of that.

Mikoto ate her bite daintily, swallowed, and then replied, "I agree, Sakura-san. He is getting a big head, I can most certainly see."

"That's certainly not a bad thing," Fugaku said, finally breaking his steadfast silence. He was still frowning heavily, but his tone was light and friendly, albeit a bit defensive. "Besides, my youngest is quite accomplished, and the last I checked, that would qualify as pride, not ego."

"Semantics," said Itachi under his breath, which thankfully went unnoticed. His father had a point, but Sasuke was guilty of both ego _and_ pride. Itachi simply did not want to get into an in-depth conversation about the difference between the two. Sakura didn't need to witness one of those conversations on her first night over as Sasuke's girlfriend.

However, it seemed that Mikoto had no such reservations, replying teasingly, "I disagree. I love my son unconditionally but I have never met a child so prone to exaggeration as Sasuke."

"Mom!" complained Sasuke, the tips of his ears going red.

"He is not prone to exaggeration if his actions speak for themselves, darling," said Fugaku, lifting his chin in his own pride for Sasuke. "Perfect A-level marks, excellent social delegation, superb understanding of modern technologies, and a fantastic judge of character." At that last bit, Sakura's cheeks went a bit pink, whereas Sasuke banged his forehead on the table to hide his embarrassment. Itachi simply shook with withheld laughter and watched as his brother was mortified in front of his girlfriend. "Sasuke is clearly superior in all aspects, and Haruno-san should be fully aware that she is uncommonly lucky that she has garnered his attentions, for it shows that she is worthy of it."

Sasuke mumbled something against the table that Itachi couldn't catch, though it sounded curiously like ' _I hate you all_.'

Sakura, blushing hotly from the unlikely compliment, cleared her throat and said a bit hesitantly, "Sir, your son is pretty much all of these things, yes, but that's not what I see when I look at him. All I see is a normal guy with a tiny temper problem, who argues about nothing for the hell of it and can't skateboard to save his life. Sasuke's not perfect, and he does have a bit of an ego problem _especially_ in regards to nerding out with our friends and God forbid _Naruto_ , but at least he's honest, sometimes to the point of being a bit brutal. I don't really care if he's social or has good grades or whatever, because despite his faults he's...he's a good person, if not a bit oblivious to things sometimes." She paused, looking even more nervous at four identical pairs of wide, ebony-brown eyes staring at her, and then added a bit sheepishly, "Besides, I have better grades than he does. _Pretty_ sure that makes me the brains of this operation."

There was a long moment of silence, no one even registering the empty _sakizuke_ plates being removed in exchange for the _hassun_ , before Mikoto said slowly, "I like this one, Sasuke."

Fugaku erupted into booming laughter, covering his face with his hands in an attempt to hide his mirth.

Sasuke simply grinned at Sakura, who smiled shyly back.

* * *

"Ugh, this is gross," Sasuke groaned.

"What's gross?" asked Itachi, still staring at his easel with a blank expression, a pencil held awkwardly in the cast-covered fingers of his left hand. He had been staring at that fucking piece of paper for ages now, the same unnerving expression on his angular face, and Sasuke was starting to feel all weird about it. Usually Itachi attacked art like a bullet train headed for hell, regardless of whether he was sick or tired. Seeing him just stare blankly at paper, not drawing at all, was weird.

"Sakura," Sasuke said simply, slumping even further into Itachi's paint splattered white couch.

"Why is that gross?" asked Itachi, with the air of someone who didn't care to know but was being introspective and questioning just for propriety's sake.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "It's gross how much I like her. Don't tell her I said that."

"I thought she did rather well with Mother and Father," said Itachi absently, bespectacled eyes flicking across the pristine paper. Occasionally his left hand would twitch, as if preparing to move towards the paper to sketch, but then would still once again by Itachi's side. Sasuke wished he would just get on with it, because Itachi was unbearably annoying when he lost inspiration. He got testy and irritable and it wasn't fun at all. That coupled with being stuck with his numerous healing injuries in the Uchiha estate would be brutal to witness.

"She definitely did. I think Father likes her despite her...alleged shortcomings," answered Sasuke grumpily, recalling a conversation between a few Uchiha higher-ups that had spoken of Sakura's lack of distinguished upbringing and monetary value. Like she was an object or something.

"You will always have more than enough money for the both of you," replied Itachi distantly, hand twitching again. "Her worth isn't based off how wealthy her parents are or if she can dance the ballroom."

"That's what Madara is fussing about," grumbled Sasuke, displeased at the thought of the elderly Uchiha elder.

"Uchiha Madara's opinion doesn't matter," said Itachi with a slow eye blink. "He is no longer the head of Uchiha International nor is the clan head any more. Don't concern yourself with his ancient bigotry."

"He's _the_ clan elder though, Itachi. If he disapproves, then the rest of the elders will follow, and Father has to placate those old fuckers even though they'll all croak in a few years anyway."

"Show respect," Itachi said absent-mindedly. "Besides, that's not entirely accurate. Father has never blindly followed their wishes. If he did, I would still be the heir and slated to marry an heiress after graduation from university. Father clearly didn't listen to them, and I'm more than willing to guarantee that the elders will be much more approving of you dating a respectful woman than me dating a male if I was in your position."

"Yeah, I guess," Sasuke conceded with a shrug. "But still. I don't want them to fuck this up. I mean, after meeting the Emperor today, may he live forever, I don't want them to object to her simply because she doesn't have lineage as they prep me for _that_ special brand of dumb. That bullshit was so last century anyway. Who even cares about bloodlines any more?"

"Language," Itachi admonished distractedly. "And clans do care about bloodlines, no matter how archaic they go about it."

"It's idiotic," complained Sasuke.

"It is," agreed Itachi lightly.

They sat in silence for a while, Sasuke pulling out his phone to play _Reckless Racing_ as he periodically glanced up to watch Itachi. His brother's face was still eerily serene even as his eyes gradually grew tight with irritation. Occasionally Itachi would bring his hand up, pressing the end of the pencil to the paper as if finally preparing to sketch, but after a long moment of inactivity, Itachi would lower his hand dejectedly and sigh faintly.

Eventually Itachi lost his temper, and Sasuke's car slammed into a rail when Itachi grasped his easel and threw it on the ground with a loud crash. The easel broke into three pieces, the paper almost gracefully floating to the ground as Itachi went on a rampage, stalking around his studio and angrily shoving everything within reach to the floor. Papers scattered erratically, paint cups clattered, paintbrushes rained like hail, and paint jars and tubes were thrown aggressively at walls, leaving behind splatters if they were opened or ruptured in the process. It was like a tornado whirling through the room, Itachi as the epicentre of the funnel, causing destruction in his wake as he utterly wrecked the entire studio with cool efficiency despite the wrath fuelling the action.

Sasuke watched him destroy the place with wide eyes until he got to the bookshelf on the other end of the couch, finally hopping up to stop his brother as Itachi clenched the entire wooden frame in his cast-covered fingers in preparation to push the entire thing down. Sasuke got to his right in time, the bookshelf wobbling, grabbing his brother's arms and pulling him away from the shelf. Itachi was breathing erratically, entire body shaking minutely, and Sasuke led him to the couch, sitting him down with only a bit of resistance from Itachi.

Calmly, Sasuke said, "C'mon, the last thing you need is to strain yourself right now. If you don't have inspiration now, you need to be patient and wait it out, not injure yourself further. Yanking down a filled bookshelf is not the way to go about things."

Itachi glared at the broken easel in the middle of the floor, lips pulled into a frown, but thankfully didn't argue. Sasuke wasn't sure what to do, because Itachi didn't lose his temper often and usually not so violently, because while he tended to break things while painting and cause a general ruckus, he hadn't utterly trashed his studio before. His studio was his mind palace, Itachi sometimes drily joked, and it was unlike him to demolish it.

Partly because he was obligated to ask, but mostly because he was worried, Sasuke questioned, "Are you okay?"

Itachi crossed his arms and brought his knees up to his chest, a small grimace of pain accompanying the action. Curled up in a ball upright, still glaring at the offending easel, Itachi huffed just barely under his breath and said evenly, "I'm fine."

Sasuke sighed, completely at a loss. It wasn't like he could ask Itachi about what was bothering him, because he had already tried that last night, when Itachi had first started acting weird. Sasuke had been mildly placated when Itachi had woken up in remarkably good spirits, but as the day had progressed Itachi had grown even more irritable than usual. He had seemed alright at dinner, though a bit quiet and distant, but since Sasuke had returned from dropping Sakura off at her house, he had been downright gloomy and completely unapproachable. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him, because this was the worst mood swing Itachi had ever sported as far as Sasuke was aware, and he was afraid to ask again in fear of Itachi completely shutting down.

Funny how Itachi could get Sasuke to come clean with virtually no effort but Sasuke couldn't get through to Itachi for the life of him, especially if Itachi was feeling particularly stubborn.

Which, judging by the thunderous clouds metaphorically hanging over Itachi's head, was probably Itachi's current disposition. Itachi did stubborn like most children did exuberant at Christmas.

Unfortunately, Sasuke himself did defensive irritation like most children did exuberant at Christmas, and though the logical side of his brain urged him to simply offer platitudes and leave Itachi alone to stew, the much bigger, non-logical side simply got annoyed and upset. So, instead of being a kind brother and letting it go, fully accepting the fact that Itachi would talk about it at his own pace, Sasuke regrettably snapped before he realised exactly what he had done.

"Fine, whatever," Sasuke bit out, standing up and grabbing his phone as his blood pounded angrily in his ears. "You fucking soak in your own problems and refuse to get it out there to the one person who won't judge you. And whenever you're ready to stop being overwhelmingly dramatic and actually share something with me like I allow you to do for me on a day-to-day basis, come find me. Maybe then I'll get the memo that says that you actually give a shit about me _and_ yourself instead of being constantly disappointed that you're incapable of caring about anything but your own dumb art."

Sasuke stormed out of the room, hating himself with every step he took and every beat of shocked silence that echoed behind him. He knew that he had gone a bit too far, because art was supremely important to Itachi and Sasuke _knew_ that Itachi cared about his family almost too much, but he couldn't even get himself to turn around and apologise. He slammed the door behind him, gritting his teeth as his mind warred between needing to apologise and the urge to follow through until Itachi got a clue for once, but he didn't stop until he had reached his game room and the massive stereo along the far wall.

He turned on said stereo and blasted angry music as loud as it would go, knowing that the soundproof walls would mask the majority of the sound but wishing that the whole house could hear it, and praying that Itachi would come to talk.

But Itachi never came.

* * *

Itachi stared at the paint splattered wall dejectedly.

A part of him wanted to leave to find Sasuke, to apologise even if he didn't have anything to apologise for. Itachi knew that he didn't do anything wrong, because every day he made a conscious effort to be the best brother that he could be for Sasuke's sake. Itachi _knew_ that he wasn't the most open person out there, that he was socially defective, but that wasn't his fault. He had always been that way, as long as he could remember, and it was wrong of Sasuke to try and force Itachi to talk about things that Itachi himself couldn't even put into words.

He didn't _know_ how to speak about the whirlwind of thoughts that was leading to his inspiration being stripped. He was being investigated for an ANBU position in intelligence and reconnaissance, which he couldn't talk to Sasuke about because he had been sworn to silence. He was attracted to one of the captains and had spent a portion of the previous night with said captain having the most incomprehensible experience in his short life, and he most certainly couldn't speak to Sasuke about that without giving something away or simply lying through his teeth, something he did not want to do. He was in intense pain that he should've been taking painkillers for, his healing skull and ribs constantly groaning in agony, but he couldn't tell Sasuke that or he would demand Itachi to take the pills and Itachi didn't want to do that. He had no inspiration for any art whatsoever, which frightened Itachi to a degree that he had never felt before when it came to expressing himself, and he couldn't talk to Sasuke about that either without mentioning why he had the block in the first place, leading him full circle.

What was he supposed to say without his words being lies and feeling the guilt that accompanied it?

The other part of him wanted Sasuke to apologise to _him_ , even though he knew that if Sasuke ever did, it would be a while in the future. One of Sasuke's faults was his inability to see the wrong in his actions, or if he did he simply didn't own to it. Perhaps that was Sasuke's egotistical manner getting the better of him, but the point was moot. Sasuke wouldn't apologise for something that he didn't see the error of. Perhaps Sasuke _did_ know that he had been wrong with some of the falsities in his words, but Itachi knew of Sasuke's mannerisms well enough to know that Sasuke likely believed that he was at least partially right.

Itachi could understand that, which made it even more difficult. Sasuke had a reason to be upset, because he had always been open with Itachi with whatever was bothering him even if Itachi sometimes had to pester him until Sasuke got it off his chest. Itachi, on the other hand, had a serious problem opening up to people, one of his many personal faults, because Itachi had always been more of a suffer-in-silence type than probably healthy. Itachi understood that Sasuke wanted to be on the other end of that spectrum, that he wanted to help Itachi in the same way that Itachi helped him, but what Sasuke didn't understand was that Itachi wasn't like his younger brother. Itachi didn't – _couldn't_ – respond in the same way that Sasuke did when Itachi got him to talk, because they were different people with different ways of coping or dealing with issues.

The problem was that this would never be resolved. Sasuke wouldn't feel comfortable with apologising or approaching Itachi again until Itachi came clean with what was bothering him, and yet Itachi couldn't come clean because he was literally incapable of doing it.

Itachi didn't want to alienate his brother, and he knew instinctively that they would continue to be close regardless of this particular fight, but sooner or later the arguments would pile up because Itachi couldn't speak of his problems. If the problems weren't dealt with, then a rift would continue to build until it was nearly incapable of being patched up, and the idea of that occurring in the future caused a sharp twinge of despair to ache in his chest.

Itachi plainly didn't know what to do, and it was hurting both of them.

He knew that he could do what he always did, internalising the conflict in his mind and pretending that it wasn't a problem until he was mercifully alone, but if the inspiration didn't come back, Itachi would only be prone to more outbursts. That would trigger an alarm with not only Sasuke but with the rest of his family as well, and that was something that he wanted to avoid. Itachi knew that pretending to be okay was the most logical way to proceed, being careful about his own temperament as to show that he really was going to be fine, but it was going to be exhausting since he had no one to really talk to.

He didn't want to talk to Crow, because despite their weird mutual attraction and in depth conversations, Crow wasn't Itachi's therapist (if he even had one) and didn't need to listen to Itachi's emotional baggage. Crow had a job to do first and foremost, be it protecting the Emperor or, presently, the Uchiha family, and Itachi wasn't going to monopolise his time in such a childish way. Besides, despite their encounters, Itachi _still_ didn't know a thing about him, let alone his name or his dreams and hobbies. They were attracted to each other, yes, but they weren't friends or anything more than that. It didn't mean anything in the end and likely would _never_ mean anything.

 _Perhaps they have an ANBU psychologist_ , Itachi thought with sarcastic amusement, but quickly brushed off the thought as quickly as it had came. Though it was highly probable that they did, because personal psychologists were needed with a job like ANBU eating at the minds of the operatives, Itachi for sure didn't want to go have a weekly visit with one. The ANBU freaked him out even on a good day, and talking about his feelings and other personal matters just seemed like he would be giving them extra ammunition to warrant either his death or his induction.

Itachi sighed to himself, letting his entire body go boneless into the multicoloured couch. He let his eyes fall closed, moving languidly in order to stretch out his long limbs into a more comfortable position, clearing his mind in order to wind down. He could feel the hours catching up to him, growing drowsy as he vaguely remembered that he had only achieved a few hours of deep, dreamless sleep before the coffee brewing downstairs had woken him up like normal. He wondered absently if Crow was just as tired as Itachi was, though he doubted it since Crow was on a night schedule, but the thought still plagued him as he began to drift off, curled towards the demolished studio and the left side of his glasses beginning to dig into his face from his side position. He couldn't muster up the energy to take them off, so he tilted his head just enough to where the glasses weren't uncomfortable any longer.

He fell asleep to dreams of a static ocean of greys and blacks and whites, and when the morning light woke him up, his glasses were folded neatly on the coffee table and his duvet from his bed was draped over his body.


	10. Breaking Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't an idea how this is happening. I'm in hospital with a collapsed lung caused by pneumonia, which happened because my immune system is completely shot, and that was brought on by the fact that my leukaemia is back and there's a benign tumour in my spinal cord that won't shrink enough for safe surgery with radiation. I'm on a bloody fucking ventilator and I can't eat on my own and I can barely stay awake and here is another fucking chapter from God knows where, and it won't stop even though my whole body hurts and this shit can't be healthy. My hands are going to fall off and my wrists hurt and I can't see the computer screen because I'm so tired and drugged up right now. I hope my grammar is okay. I hope this chapter isn't riddled with stupid tool. When I'm coherent, I'm going to read back over this chapter and say, "Oh my God what in Merlin's fuck did I write?! This shit is rubbish! What is this authors note?! Where is my fucking YO?!" Then I'm going to retract this chapter and rewrite it when I have a second and why won't my brain stop? It won't stop. Make it stop please. Please?
> 
> Hi. I'm Gian, I love my Princess Torro more than I've ever loved anyone before includling myself, I'm the biggest gay to ever gay because wow cocks are awesome, despite the fact that I'm a cracked out recovering anorexic with massive emotional problems my husband loves me for some stupid reason that makes me question his sanity sometimes, I think it's funny when reviewers leave me angry reviews because they think my gay sex scenes are unrealistic even though I AM GAY AND MALE AND I'VE HAD LOTS OF GAY SEX OKAY SO I KNOW WHAT I'M WRITING ABOUT I PROMISE!, and I really love all of you very much. More than twelve people are reading this now. This freaks me out. I don't know why but it is. I'm so sorry for this. Robert's going to take the computer away from me now since I'm not supposed to have electronics right now. Or internet. I love you all bye.

Chapter Ten  
 _Breaking Down  
_ -  
“Amidst the confusion of the times, the conflicts of conscience, and the turmoil of daily living, an abiding faith becomes an anchor to our lives.”  
 __Thomas S Monson

  
 

The weeks passed by at an agonisingly slow pace.

Sasuke hated it, because while he was pleased that the weather was much colder after Konoha's unbearably hot autumn months, he couldn't stand the general tenseness that he felt every time he entered the doors.

Itachi had gradually been allowed to move back downstairs after three weeks of taking it easy, and within a month of the accident, he had been allowed to begin school again. After five weeks, his ribs had healed to the point where he wasn't at risk of developing pneumonia or an infection, so he had started going to the track to lightly run again, though he still wasn't allowed to do anything crazy due to his arm, fingers, and collar bone. It at least gave Itachi something to do other than homework or going stir-crazy, and Sasuke was dead certain that Itachi was losing his mind with inactivity and banality.

Despite getting better, all of the bruises gone and simply waiting until Itachi received the go-ahead to have his casts removed, Itachi seemed to be getting worse. He was more withdrawn, the dark circles around his eyes growing with each passing day, and he barely spoke to anyone in the house. He had had another series of blood tests done whenever he had gone in for his rib x-ray, and Itachi's oncologist had said that his cancer was still in remission, so that explanation was out. Because of that, the rest of the Uchiha family was at a loss.

Sasuke knew that Itachi hadn't been painting, because the studio was still wrecked from that tantrum that Itachi had had eight weeks ago, not a single paintbrush picked up and the now-dried paint still on the walls. The opened jars and busted tubes had dried out after days of sitting out, leaving the homemade paint cracked and flaking with dehydration, and the easel still lay broken in the middle of the floor. Nothing had changed, and Sasuke was certain that Itachi hadn't even been in that room since that night, because every time Sasuke sneaked inside to see, it smelt stuffy and was cold as ice from inactivity.

Furthermore, their conversations between the two of them boiled down to passing condiments at the dinner table on Sunday nights and reminders to buckle up in vehicles. Otherwise, they barely spoke two words to each other on a day-to-day basis, and the strain of it was starting to take its toll on Sasuke. He didn't even want to imagine what Itachi was feeling, since Itachi didn't have other people to take his mind off his internal conflicts like Sasuke did.

Wrapped up in cold weather clothing, Sasuke grasped Sakura's hand tighter as they made their way to the Café for the obligatory Friday afternoon gaming session. By the time they finally made it into the bustling establishment, the only people from their close-knit group of friends that hadn't shown up was Shikamaru (no surprise there) and Gaara, who was probably off mutilating a pet or something.

Sasuke helped Sakura out of her bright green jacket and hung it up on one of the coat racks before shrugging out of his own coat, draping it over the top of hers before pushing the bridge of his red half-frame glasses up his nose. His scarf followed and he pulled off his gloves quickly, shoving them into the deep pockets of his waist-length, military-style coat, before heading towards the main gaming area where his friends were lounging.

He flung himself rather ungracefully onto a couch, propping his boots on Naruto's lap as he stretched out. Naruto ignored him in favour of his screaming match at the television, fingers flying over an Xbox One controller as he attempted to manoeuvre his way through a Call of Duty map without being murdered every ten seconds. On a beanbag in front of the telly, Kiba and Chōji were yelling just as loudly, both of them continuously bumping into each other as they flailed about madly with their controllers in hand.

Sasuke watched the madness with a smirk on his face, especially in comparison to Shino, who was silent as the grave as he took out an enemy with cool efficiency and immediately was sniped a second later. That was what Sasuke liked about Call of Duty, really – it was realistic in a way that Halo wasn't, because if a character got shot in CoD, then they died and that was all there was to it. Sure, there were glitches and general stupidity when it came to some aspects of it, but he'd rather get shot in the head and die than shoot an enemy twelve times in the head in Halo and  _ still _ have the little bastard kill him with a grenade. That shit was  _ frustrating _ .

Sakura came back from the coffee bar with a steaming vanilla late and a Chai tea, the latter which was placed on the coffee table to cool for the Uchiha heir. Sasuke lifted his upper body up, allowing Sakura to take a seat, before he laid back down, head cushioned by Sakura's slender but shapely thighs, eyes closing in comfort.

He wasn't really in the mood for gaming, since his mind was elsewhere. Itachi hadn't been at school since second period, when he had been taken out by Mikoto to hopefully have his casts removed if the x-rays were clean. Sasuke almost wanted to call him to see if he had been able to finally get the plaster casts off, but was hesitant to do so. He didn't want to call Itachi just to have a bare-bones, stilted conversation with his brother, and he didn't want to call their mother because she would inquire  _ again _ as to what was wrong with the two of them. He really didn't want to have to deal with that today, because he was tired of the questions.

“Oi dipshit, you wanna play?” he heard Naruto ask, nudging his boots but making no effort to push them off. And to imagine that only four or so months ago, the fucker had been the most annoying human being on the face of the planet and would've never allowed Sasuke to use him as a leg rest without completely losing his mind. Well, to be fair, Naruto was  _ still _ an annoying motherfucker, but at least he was tolerable. Sasuke was pretty sure that Lee had stolen  _ that _ title from the blond without much of a fight.

“Nah, I'm out. I'd just kick your ass anyway,” answered Sasuke with a yawn, blinking up at Sakura with a pleading, innocent expression on his face until she rolled her eyes and threaded her fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly. Sasuke didn't even mind when he groaned in appreciation, pressing into Sakura's fingers while ignoring the snickers from Naruto and Kiba. It wasn't like those idiots had a gorgeous girl with an equally gorgeous brain to match giving  _ them _ head massages.

Sasuke made a mental note to kiss Haruno Sakura senseless later, though he doubted he needed to be reminded. Kissing her senseless was the second best part of the day, second only to watching that girl skateboard like a fiend. That shit was drop-dead sexy, especially when she was bundled up with winter clothes. Naruto thought it was weird but Sasuke liked a girl in tasteful clothes a lot more than a girl that was scantly clad, and while Sakura had great legs that were certainly meant for showing off, he found that he preferred her when she was in her bright layers with rosy cheeks and luminous eyes.

Whatever, he just liked her no matter what she was wearing.

Naruto was right – he really  _ was _ turning into a mushy weirdo – but Sasuke didn't mind. At least he owned to it.

He was perilously close to drifting off into slumber, Sakura eventually just tangling her left hand into Sasuke's hair and letting the other grasp Sasuke's own left hand lightly, when Sakura leaned down and whispered, “Hey, you wanna get out of here? No reason to be here if we're both gonna end up passing out on this sofa, and I'm sure Dad is getting dinner ready.”

Sasuke grumbled a bit, still sleepy, before he said, “Sure, as long as you drive.”

“Yeah, yeah, sleepyhead, I got it,” Sakura said with a snicker, before she started pushing at him teasingly to get him to move. He reluctantly lifted himself up, which allowed Sakura to finally get up and stretch. Sasuke forced himself into a sitting position, grabbing the lukewarm tea and draining it in five massive gulps, craving caffeine like mad in order to wake himself up. He grabbed Sakura's empty coffee cup and his own teacup, groaning to himself as he stood up on shaky legs and lethargically made his way to the counter. He handed Mari, the barista behind the counter, the cups and dropped a fifty pound note into the tip jar as per customary, getting a cheerful smile from the blonde before he journeyed back to the couches.

Naruto was complaining loudly about their early departure, but Sasuke could tell that the blond wasn't into his own argument. Sasuke knew that he looked utterly exhausted, his worry over Itachi creeping into his own sleepless nights, and Sasuke also knew that everyone else could see it. He could tell that they were worried, especially since Itachi had been so closed off and exhausted at school as well, but he didn't really want to talk about it. Not even Sakura knew, even if Sasuke knew that she was probably planning an intervention with Naruto. Sasuke needed to let it out to at least those two before he ended up in that awkward situation, because even if Sasuke was comfortable talking to both of them, he wasn't really comfortable talking to both of them at the same time.

“Whatever, idiot,” Sasuke said without much bite.

“Fuck you, you fucktard,” Naruto said back, also without much bite. Then, while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and a shit-eating grin on his sun-kissed face, he added, “Go have some  _ fun _ together, you two.”

“Oh suck a dick Naruto,” Sakura said, throwing a pillow at the cackling Naruto's head and grabbing Sasuke's hand as they went to collect their coats.

They left the Café with catcalls following in their wake, and Sakura began laughing madly whenever the door shut behind them. Sasuke rolled his eyes lazily, but a grin was edging onto his lips, and as they turned the corner he grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her, her nose lightly bumping against his glasses. She responded immediately, the smile still evident on her lips, their tongues winding with easy familiarity and their bodies pressed together, and Sasuke felt himself melt into it, not even minding the taste of coffee on her lips.

When they reluctantly broke for air, Sasuke reached into his coat pocket for his keys, but stopped when Sakura lifted her fingers and jingled his keys right in front of his face.

Sasuke huffed good-naturedly and said with a smirk, “Alright, you effin ninja, get in the car and chauffeur me around already.”

Sakura smacked him lightly on the shoulder before she crossed the bonnet of the car and opened the passenger door of the Audi, gesturing dramatically inside like a car salesman. “In you go, m'lady,” she said in a posh accent, bowing exaggeratively as Sasuke snorted while folding his body into the seat.

He let her shut the door for him, letting out a brief fit of laughter as she all but danced around the bonnet to get into the right side of the car. He managed to quell the snickers when she opened her own door, climbing in the driver's seat and firing up the car, but his mirthful grin was still on his face when she glanced over at him to make sure his seatbelt was on. He sarcastically flicked the shoulder strap and she flipped him off in response, buckling her own and smoothly moving out of the parking space.

He leant his seat back and closed his eyes, the gentle hum of the car and the city soundtrack once again lulling him to the edges of consciousness. He almost felt bad for constantly drifting off on Sakura, but he knew she didn't mind. Sakura definitely wasn't shy, and if she had a problem with something she tended to speak her mind about it. What he  _ did _ feel bad about was that she was clearly worried. He hated worrying people, quite like his brother in that regard, but he was so emotionally fatigued that he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.

Flashes of images reminiscent of dreams flickered behind his closed eyelids, or perhaps of memories because he could still see Itachi's alarmed expression that night they had talked about the perfect ideal for a partner and how he had closed down completely afterwards. Sasuke could vaguely feel himself frown, or maybe that was his imagination, because surely he was asleep by this point. He felt almost buoyant despite the heavy emotions that resulted from Itachi's actions the last two months, and even past that because Itachi was fifteen and throwing up repeatedly as he went through chemotherapy.

He felt himself wake up almost instinctively when the car slowed down, reluctant to open his eyes and feeling twice as drained as before. He opened his eyes anyway though, squinting through the glare of the outside light, and fixed his glasses absently, noting that they were pulled into the drive of Sakura's place in the suburbs. His girlfriend turned off the Audi, glancing over once to smile lightly at him, before she exited the vehicle. Sasuke followed suit, not bothered by their location since he had met her (frankly terrifying) parents before, making a considerable effort to pull himself out of his comfortable seat and out into the freezing air outside.

He slowly reached for Sakura, drowsy and still half-asleep, and heard his car beep as she locked it. They walked towards the porch of the modest but well-kept two storey home, eventually letting themselves in to the scent of dinner being made in the kitchen.

Sakura's father, Kazashi, was frying up vegetables on the stove and didn't even look up from his handiwork when he said jokingly, “Keep the door open, kiddies, and dinner'll be ready in less than an hour.”

“Thanks Dad,” Sakura said, sarcastic but with obvious amusement in her voice, before she led Sasuke upstairs by the hand and brought him into her bedroom. It never ceased to amuse him, seeing her bedroom, because it didn't really match her at all in Sasuke's opinion. Everything was pink, from the bedspread to the pastel pink walls, and the only thing that didn't make it look like an eleven-year-old girl had designed this room in entirety was the skateboard in the corner and her massive desk that was covered in photographs and torn apart consoles.

He didn't have the energy to tease her like he usually did when he walked in, instead beelining to the queen-sized bed in the corner after kicking off his shoes and tossing his glasses on the desk. He face-planted into the sinfully comfy mattress with part of his legs hanging off the bed, not particularly caring what it looked like. He heard her laugh at him, and he lazily flung an arm out as if to shoo her away, but he felt her lift his legs and toss them onto the comforter and he mumbled a thanks to her.

“Uh huh, you can sing my praises later, Sasuke. Just get a nap in before my dad barges in here to get us for dinner.”

He felt her settle beside him, and he immediately reached for her, sleepily capturing her lips in a lazy kiss. She reciprocated easily, and when they pulled away from one another, she curled in his arms as if she was meant to be there.

His last thought before he succumbed to sleep was that he was going to end up falling for this girl if he wasn't careful, and that he wasn't even sure if he  _ wanted _ to be careful with her.

* * *

It was nearing one in the morning and Itachi still couldn't create a damn thing.

He had been staring at his wall for hours, a piece of off-white paper pinned to the wall since all three of his easels were broken, and he held a charcoal pencil in his stiff left fingers. He kept staring, ignoring the chaos of his destroyed studio behind him, as he tried to focus, and then tried to drift away...anything to get  _ something _ to manifest in his brain so he could paint.

Hell, he would take only sketching or watercolour or sculpting at this point. Itachi was practically desperate.

He had figured that a lot of his artist's block stemmed from the fact that he couldn't hold a pencil or brush in his hand comfortably, so all of his hope had been focussed on getting the casts off so things could return to normal. However, Itachi was now cast-free, and if he was being honest with himself, he felt even more blocked than before.

A shiver of anger crept through all of his extremities, but Itachi took a deep breath to quell the urge to break things. He wasn't sure if his studio could take any further wreckage, and he wasn't in the mood to clean up the first mess, let alone any messes that would follow another tantrum.

The only break in the monotony had been when Itachi had mixed a few basic paints even though there were still choices that hadn't been destroyed two months ago, and that process had taken about an hour in his proficiency. They were sitting now, thickening and growing bold in their colour, but it wouldn't matter how many paints he mixed if he couldn't get anything out of his head in the first place.

Itachi lifted his hand and began lazily drawing a never-ending series of circles, not allowing his pencil to lift from the paper. Sometimes it worked when Itachi was in a slump, because occasionally Itachi would see something in the nonsensical scribbling and would madly begin drawing or painting in response. But Itachi continued to draw the circles, until almost the entire paper was black, and Itachi simply couldn't do it any more.

He pulled the paper off the wall, ripping the edges that he had carelessly pinned to the wall, and walked to the windows, pulling a lighter out of a drawer on his way. He unlocked the large windows one-by-one, pushing the open to let in the freezing air that lay stagnant outside. He felt himself shudder with the cold, his arms erupting in goose flesh as the air touched his bare forearms, and then finally sat in the middle window nook and lit the bottom corner of the paper on fire.

He watched as it was slowly engulfed in flame, gradually making its way upward toward Itachi's fingers. He could feel the heat, contrasting so greatly with the frigid air that began blowing lightly into the studio, and his bespectacled eyes watched as his skin began to glow yellow, then orange, and finally red once the flame reached Itachi's fingers. Quickly but without expression, Itachi tossed the remainder of the paper out the window, his fingers stinging and eyes following the flutter of flame and ash.

“Did you manage to get something out this time?” asked a deep, mellow voice behind him. Itachi didn't jump or turn around, already used to the presence of Crow making himself known. Ever since that night eight weeks ago, Itachi had always been greeted to the presence of Crow at least twice a week, always around one in the morning since Crow had to do his initial changeover and patrol before seeking Itachi out. By now, the entire operation knew that Itachi was aware of his potential induction, and occasionally he would get a lackadaisical wave from an operative when he wandered through the halls during the day or night. Even more rarely, an operative (though never a captain other than Crow) would murmur a quick greeting if they were certain he was alone, and Itachi never failed to greet them back.

The other ANBU tended to turn a blind eye when Itachi and Crow passed each other in the hallways. After all, the two of them weren't exactly subtle as their eyes – or mask, in Crow's case – tended to follow each other even in the company of others, and Itachi could see how that could get awkward or weird for everyone involved. Itachi wasn't sure how much the other ANBU were aware of when it came to the strange mutual attraction between Crow and Itachi, but he figured they all suspected or outright knew. He was vaguely curious if Crow had been talked to yet, be it for professionalism or just because the whole situation was fucked up and untoward.

“No,” Itachi sighed, glancing over at his wall. The only addition to the rubbish littering the place was a large chunk of cast that he had saved and placed in a paper bag. Perhaps it had been a bit unsanitary, but he justified himself with the Ziploc. After all, he really wanted to keep that little portion of it, because that had been the only part that had been drawn or doodled on at all.

Three weeks into his forced house arrest, he had been reading a book in one of the dens on the second floor, timing Crow to see how long it would take the captain to find him in the corner nook. After a good half an hour past two, Crow had come in and sat down quietly on the floor next to him, a comfortable but thick silence enveloping the room. Itachi, still focussed on his book, had let Crow play with his cast-covered fingers on his right hand, taking in the rich words of Nishida Kitar ō .

He hadn't even realised that Crow had pulled out a felt-tip permanent marker, cobalt blue in colour, and had drawn a  _ henohenomoheji _ with quick, sure strokes until he had gotten halfway through the massive  _ ji _ for the face. Itachi had raised an eyebrow, rather amused by the childish depiction of a scarecrow, but hadn't said a word.

The cartoon in itself had gotten a few weird looks, both from his family members and a few people in his classes, especially when he hadn't owned up to drawing it or really spoken to it at all.

Itachi looked back towards the grounds of the estate, putting that night out of his mind. This night would likely be like all of the others, the two of them sitting around without speaking while Itachi read or listened to music, and he was okay with that. Lately, the only reason he hadn't snapped in frustration was these nightly visits, and while they were starting to take their toll on him due to the lack of sleep, he yearned for it.

He still felt a bit more on edge this night though, likely because he still couldn't get anything out. Before, he had convinced himself to wait until the casts were removed, for that would make everything come again, but now he had no goal to wait for. He had no idea when his inspiration would come back, and there was only so much reading and studying that Itachi could do before he lost his mind with boredom.

He hadn't realised how much of his time was spent getting lost in creation until it had been stripped away from him.

Crow stood behind him, the rustle of his cloak the only identifier that Crow had joined his side, for a long moment before he finally said, “It'll come.” Itachi felt the fabric of Crow's gloves touch the backs of Itachi's hands, and he allowed the captain to manipulate his healed bones lightly as he continued to stare out the window. Eventually, Crow's deep, masculine timbre spoke again, words soft in the silent room, “It's nice to see that you've had the casts removed. No lasting damage or misalignment, and you know I'll have to put that in my report.”

Itachi frowned, but instead of demanding (again) to be omitted from the ANBU's investigation, he merely sighed in acceptance, not really in the mood to argue about liabilities and potential recruitment. There wasn't anything he could do to dissuade the captain to disobey a direct order from the Emperor.

Itachi watched as a black-cloaked ANBU came into sight, patrolling the grounds, while simultaneously manoeuvring himself so Crow could join him. Crow responded to the silent gesture, settling behind him and letting Itachi lean against the bone-white armour before wrapping the front of the cloak as much as he could around Itachi's shoulders. Itachi immediately melted into his warmth, not realising how cold he had been until the chill was warded off by the bulky white fabric, and took a deep breath. His heart didn't flutter as madly like it had the first time they had been so close, though he still felt like a schoolgirl around him regardless, and Itachi was thankful for that. He was satisfied with the elated pull he felt as he was wrapped so securely in Crow's arms and cloak.

The ANBU operative below glanced up, the bird-like mask gleaming in the mid-December moonlight, and then waved, in which Itachi briefly let a hand leave the cocoon of Crow's cloak to wave back. He felt a small smile pop onto his lips without accord, remembering a time only a few months ago where he had nearly had panic attacks at the sight of an ANBU. Now he was waving at them, greeting them, being held by one, and a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered traitorously what it would be like if he accepted their inevitable (according to Crow) invitation to join their ranks.

Partly out of curiosity, but mostly because he was fishing like usual, Itachi asked quietly, “What do you do for fun?”

“What is this foreign thing called 'fun' you speak of?” Crow dead-panned, sounding completely serious despite the teasing sarcasm of his word choices.

Itachi allowed himself to roll his eyes, mostly because he knew Crow would be able to see it from the reflection off the glass and therefore would be able to see his exasperation. He heard a low rumble of a laugh behind him, and his tiny smile grew just a tad bit wider at the soothing sound. Regardless of his mirth and the near-affection he felt, Itachi pressed, “You know what I mean.”

Crow pressed his porcelain-esque mask against the back of Itachi's head, breathing audibly against his hair. He eventually murmured, “I'm not sure if you're asking if I have a civilian life outside of this profession or if the ANBU know how to party like rock stars.”

That startled an exhale that was reminiscent of laughter from Itachi's throat, Itachi completely unprepared for such a joke. Itachi squirmed in Crow's grip, getting another low laugh from the captain as he faced Crow's masked face dead-on. His body quickly chilled again, now too far away to be wrapped in the cloak with Crow, but he didn't much care. Instead, he focussed on the dark eye-slits and the vague hint of glittering eyes beneath, trying to ignore the alluring image of Crow with his cloak open, legs slightly open and bent at the knees. “Well, I was leaning towards the latter,” Itachi lied, the small smile surely giving him away.

Crow shook his head minutely and said with clear amusement in his tone, “Come here, you infuriating creature.”

Itachi shifted closer, close enough where the tops of his thighs were neatly tucked underneath Crow's legs and against his hips, laying his forearms against the white armour. Itachi felt the heavy fabric of Crow's cloak fall around his shoulders, cocooning him once again in warmth, and he shuddered lightly at the temperature change. Perhaps, if he had thought about it when he had been out of Crow's arms, he would've closed the windows, but he didn't give it much thought after he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cloth-covered skin of Crow's neck.

His voice rumbling against Itachi's curled form, Crow finally said, “Some of us do have civilian lives, but it's easier for some than others.” There was a brief hesitation, Itachi tensing mildly as he waited, before Crow continued, “We have a...particular way of inducting our members. Because of this, it can be difficult to have a full life outside of our profession.”

Itachi thought about that for a moment, then asked, “Can't you just get new names and identities in that case, so no one knows exactly who you are?” He knew that it was a bit of a loaded question, because Itachi knew that it didn't work that way for all people.

Crow echoed Itachi's thoughts when he explained quietly, “Well not exactly. Take you, for instance, should you accept the invitation. Your face is much too well-known to simply stroll about the countryside, regardless of which nation you would be in. You would be recognised because you're Uchiha, the ex-heir to your father's corporation, and if not then, you would most certainly be recognised due to the publicity of Proposal Delta here in Fire. Because of our induction methods, it would be impossible for that to occur without an international incident, and if someone connected the dots to you being sighted in, say, Lightning with a coinciding ANBU mission that went viral, it could be damaging to not only the Fire's government but to your family as well. In the modern age of technology, it doesn't allow us to be callous with our security.”

Itachi leaned up just enough to where he was face-to-face with the porcelain-esque mask of Crow, still enfolded in warmth but able to see Crow's barely-there eyes that glittered behind the eye-slits of the mask. “But there are options, I'm sure,” Itachi countered. “Though there aren't a lot of people, myself included, that would be okay with plastic surgery to change their appearance, the option is still available. And I'm sure there are exceptions. Can people not still live their normal lives and just do this job under the radar? It would be an excellent way to gather inside intelligence in my opinion.”

“It doesn't work like that for some, though I will admit that we have a sparse few operatives that have the qualifications to infiltrate a company or government with no ANBU affiliation and it has worked wonders in the past,” admitted Crow, gently pressing the forehead area of the cool mask against the skin of Itachi's own forehead.

“That doesn't make sense though,” said Itachi, thinking aloud. “Even mildly well-known faces would have a better chance to infiltrate a corporation or government, depending on who they were. I couldn't infiltrate a Hyūga corporation for instance, because I'm an Uchiha and magazines tend to reiterate my reluctance to be a part of business at all, which is the truth might I add, and I would stand out if I worked for a rival clan in any sort of business standpoint because it wouldn't be characteristic of me. However, that doesn't mean that all individuals would be like me. There are exceptions to every rule.”

“Most certainly true,” agreed Crow, his tone edging closer to exasperation, “but we do not operate that way.”

“Well then what about operatives whenever they retire?” questioned Itachi, a bit exasperated himself. It didn't make any logical sense to completely erase the identities of operatives, because someone like Itachi wouldn't be able to  _ be _ erased. It had to be easier for the government to have operatives that maintained their lives outside of the organisation simply to have continuity and a method of receiving information.

“Operatives do not retire,” answered Crow, his mellow timbre suddenly blank. “Once you join the ranks, you do not leave. You live as ANBU and die as ANBU. There is no turning back. You're an operative for life.”

Itachi was sceptical but a sliver of dread was about to burrow into his mind. He almost didn't want to hear the answer to the question that was in his head, but he heard himself say without registering the words, “So you're saying that there are operatives in ANBU that are in their nineties, perhaps even older?”

“Yes,” Crow said simply, no nonsense, “though they don't do field work. After all, we are, as you've said before, 'a quintessential, more extreme branch of the government' –  _ someone _ has to do the bureaucratic nonsense called paperwork, even if only three people in the entire government are privy to all said documents. Not even the ANBU get that kind of information in bulk; we simply do our mission and filter the results and information up the chain of command.”

“Then there is no way that there can't be an option for at least a semblance of life outside ANBU,” argued Itachi, eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he searched without avail to see Crow's eyes. “Even the government can't hide a person underground for an entire lifetime without seriously damaging their mental stability. I get that you carry out assignments that would likely break a normal man, but you're all still human with lives beforehand. A human being can't be completely cut off from society except to participate in what is seen as atrocities.”

“I did not say that we didn't have some semblance of a civilian life outside of ANBU,” returned Crow, his tone of voice still eerily blank. “I simply said that we did not have full lives outside of our profession. While it is simpler for easily forgettable faces to be amongst the crowd, even the faces that could potentially be recognised go to restaurants, see movies, and take vacations. We just do not have a two storey house with a picket fence and a wife and kids and a dog. It doesn't work that way.”

“But you still have lives before ANBU. If I was to accept your invitation, for example, I would still have families, friends, and so forth in Konoha and elsewhere,” Itachi retorted. “Family and friends can't be erased like that, and I seriously doubt that any of your operatives completely cut themselves from the lives of their loved ones like that.”

Crow sighed, almost inaudibly, and then said, “If you accept the invitation to join ANBU, you  _ will _ cut all ties with your family and acquaintances and pledge your life to the Emperor, may he live forever. There is no other alternative, just-Itachi.”

Heatedly, Itachi snapped, “You'd have to drag Sasuke from my cold, dead body.”

“No, your cold, dead body would walk away willingly and never go back no matter how many times you watch him mourn from afar,” said Crow, his voice sharp and final.

The implication of Crow's words hit Itachi like a tonne of bricks and Itachi recoiled back, nearly falling off the window nook in bone-crushing shock. There was no way,  _ no possible way _ that Crow could be telling the truth. No human being in their right mind would willingly do that to their family. Maybe to their friends, but not  _ family _ . Family was forever, and not even honour or national pride could ever convince Itachi that  _ faking his own death _ was worth serving a lifetime sentence in  _ Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai _ for.

Itachi knew that he was capable of it, and ordinarily wouldn't bat an eyelash for the opportunity to disappear for good, but despite easily seeing himself as capable of it, there was Sasuke to consider. He could quite possibly do it to his parents, and absolutely could do it to the rest of his self-important clan, but  _ not _ to Sasuke. Itachi was  _ not _ capable of doing such a thing to his baby brother.

How could Itachi watch his brother graduate school, be it secondary or university, from behind a mask, not able to congratulate him physically when he received his certificate? How could Itachi witness his brother getting married to a lovely girl without being there to pull him into his arms in utter dejection that Sasuke had finally grown up? How could Itachi hold Sasuke's children that his brother would have one day, utterly disgusted by them but still spoiling them rotten because that was what uncles did?

How could Itachi live without being beside Sasuke throughout the rest of his likely short life?

“I can't do that to him. I  _ can't _ . I'm not able...I'm not  _ capable _ of that. I can't live without him in my life Crow, I  _ can't _ .” It was like a whispered chant, a quiet mess of words that Itachi didn't realise he was speaking. Utterly horrified at the thoughts of abandoning Sasuke in his head, Itachi felt his shaking hands come up to cover his lips, still murmuring behind his fingers without comprehending the words, and his vision narrowed to a tiny pinpoint of Crow's white cloak. He felt nauseous and paralysed, incapable of doing anything but whisper and breathe hotly behind his fingertips, not even feeling the freezing wind blowing on his bare forearms and through his thin pyjamas bottoms and short-sleeved shirt.

He felt Crow stand, and absently released that he was closing the windows while Itachi tried to keep himself together. The ex-heir appreciated it, because if Crow would've reached for him after  _ that _ , Itachi likely would have pushed him away because of the bombshell larger than even  _ cancer _ straight on Itachi's brain. With cancer, there was always the chance of remission, though never of a cure (in Itachi's lifetime at least), but with induction into ANBU, the only option  _ was _ death and the willing abandonment of his beloved brother. Furthermore, with terminal cancer, at least his death would be legitimate, not a  _ lie _ . Watching his brother grow up from afar, never allowed to converse with him or curl up beside him in sleep, was a thought worse than a permanent death, and Itachi couldn't do that to Sasuke.

Crow stood in front of him, a white pillar of stone, as Itachi tried to keep himself together.

Finally, after what felt like days but was likely only minutes, Itachi looked up into Crow's porcelain-esque mask and asked him quietly, “How could I do that to him?”

Crow was silent for a handful of seconds before he said gently, “Because you're strong enough to let him go in order to protect the country that gives him the opportunity to live.”

And Itachi hated himself in that moment, more than he ever had before, because he knew that he was capable of  _ anything _ as long as it gave Sasuke the chance to be free.

* * *

Sasuke woke with a start.

He wasn't sure what had startled him awake, but as he blinked blearily in his dark room to gather himself, he knew that  _ something _ had. His first thought went to ANBU, who were roaming the house sporadically and very well could have come into his room when he had been asleep, so when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he looked around the room, his entire body a curious mix of sleepy and tense.

His vision was blurry, but he was capable of picking out large humanoid shapes in the darkened room. It only took him a second to scan his surroundings, not picking up anything that prickled at his senses, but he still felt on edge, as if something was undeniably wrong.

He reached over with a heavy arm, grasping his glasses and quickly putting them on. The dark, blurry shapes came into focus, though were not much clearer due to the room being cut off from all light, but his eyes were adjusted enough for him to get out of bed and walk a few paces to his desk in the corner of the room. He grabbed the zip-up hoodie and pulled it on, shivering slightly when the cold zipper touched the skin of his bare chest, but resolutely zipped it up while continuing to walk to the door of his room and opening it with no sound at all.

He tentatively stepped out into the hallway, eyes darting in the black hallway to catch anything that might've been amiss. He found himself sniffing the air for the smell of smoke, even though he knew without a doubt that there was no fire – if there had been, the ANBU would've woken the house up with efficiency, and the smoke detectors weren't ringing anyway.

Sasuke felt a draft coming from the partially open doorway of Itachi's studio at the same time he heard a creak.

Sasuke's heart pounded against his chest despite the fact that he knew nothing could be wrong, because ANBU would've intervened if something bad had happened. Nevertheless, Sasuke swallowed thickly, taking a few steps towards Itachi's studio down the hall, a door that hadn't been open in two months as far as Sasuke was aware. He could tell that there were no lights on, though there was a soft glow from the December moon illuminating the destroyed room. Sasuke didn't dare turn on a hallway light because he didn't want to be forced to readjust his eyes to the brightness and potentially miss something.

He crept closer, being as quiet as he could. If Itachi was in the studio, using the light of the moon to create something, then Sasuke was loathe to interrupt him. It had been pure torture living with Itachi the past eight weeks, and if Itachi was painting then Sasuke sure as hell wasn't going to distract his brother. On the other hand, however, if something else was going on, either with Itachi or with the ANBU, he didn't want to freak out anyone in that studio. Itachi was still upset with Sasuke, and the heir didn't want to approach his brother unless Itachi welcomed it, so Sasuke didn't want to alert Itachi to his presence.

If it was ANBU poking around, he definitely didn't want to spook  _ them _ . He'd wind up with a bullet in the middle of his eyes or a sword in his chest for the effort.

Still though, something felt  _ wrong _ . It curled in his chest like a thick tar, black and alive and frightening. He felt queasy from it, and so he continued to move forward, because something was wrong and he he needed to make sure his brother was safe.

The floor didn't creak as he walked across the hardwood floors towards the studio, slowly but surely. The air around him was cold but stagnant, everything feeling too still and almost like an animal preparing to pounce. It was probably just Sasuke's imagination, but it felt so real, and he could feel his breathing start to pick up in a muted fear. He lifted a hand to stifle the sound, not wanting to alert anything to his presence, while his mind screamed at him to simply rush in there making a lot of noise because there was no telling what he was going to startle if he was overly quiet. It felt too ominous to be Itachi, though Sasuke wasn't sure what  _ it _ was, and that alone made him move faster to the door until he was right at the doorway.

Sasuke inhaled, exhaled, and then reached out a hand to open the door fully, stepping inside.

The first thing that his eyes fell upon was Itachi, sitting in the nook of the middle window. His brother looked troubled, his eyes intense as he stared at a single spot on the floor. There was a light glisten to his cheeks as if he had been crying, and his healed hands were shaking in his lap like he couldn't control himself. His brother was shivering consistently, obviously cold since the studio was like an icebox, or perhaps he was terrified.

The second thing he laid eyes on was the eerily familiar ANBU captain in the corner of the room.

He was much too far away from Itachi to be any real threat, but the silent, looming presence was enough to envelope the entire broken room like a ghost. The white cloak covered the captain's body, the hood shadowing the porcelain mask dangerously, and the fabric seemed to glow with the light of the winter moon streaming in from the five windows ahead of him. It reminded Sasuke of the charcoal piece Itachi had done so many months ago now, of that towering being surrounded by black and red and grew, that powerful piece that had taken Sasuke's breath away. Sasuke felt like he couldn't breathe then too, his chest constricting in terror or perhaps even anger, because that was his  _ brother _ crying and shaking and the ANBU captain had most certainly been the cause of it.

Despite Itachi's weird...curiousness about this particular captain, the fucking bastard was the reason Itachi was upset, and there was no reason  _ at all _ for that freak to be alone with Itachi.

“Get out,” Sasuke growled, not even caring about the fact that he could've been signing his own death warrant. “Get the  _ fuck _ out of here.”

The captain did not speak, simply turning on his heel and moving unhurriedly towards the door. Sasuke's heart leapt into his throat and he practically jumped out of the ANBU's way, moving towards Itachi. He waited impatiently for the captain to leave, half expecting him to pull out a gun and blow Sasuke's brains out from Sasuke's pure cheek, but instead the ANBU stopped just a few paces away from the heir and paused.

There was a beat of silence before the captain lifted a hand, showing his black gloves and silver arm guards in the moonlight. He flicked his fingers, almost like a salute mixed with a short wave, and then he was gone with three steps and a swish of his white cloak.

Sasuke watched the captain walk down the hallway unhurriedly, eventually disappearing as he took the stairs to the bottom floor, and then Sasuke finally turned towards his brother, wary of advancing on him. Itachi had finally lifted his eyes from the hardwood floors, looking past Sasuke and towards the door where the ANBU captain had left, eyes wide behind his square-framed glasses and sparkling with uncharacteristic, unshed tears. The look in his eyes caused Sasuke's heart to stop and then restart at a frantic pace, his own ebony brown eyes wide and oh-so confused, because there was something there that  _ couldn't _ be real.

_ I'm imagining it, I have to be, there's no way that's real. I'm just losing it, that's all _ , Sasuke told himself incredulously, for there wasn't an explanation for  _ those _ emotions to be in Itachi's eyes. It wasn't possible – that was  _ affection _ , and  _ clarity _ , and something else Sasuke didn't  _ dare _ to name since  _ it wasn't real _ .

Itachi opened his mouth as if to speak, made a small noise, pressed his lips together in a tight line, and then finally managed to get out in a rough, barely-there voice, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Sasuke immediately stepped forward because he instinctively knew that his brother was about to  _ finally _ fall apart and let Sasuke in, maybe not completely but at least partially. He just  _ knew _ that something had shaken Itachi to his core, and that it hadn't just been the ANBU's fault. Something had ripped Itachi to shreds inside, rattled his very soul, and Sasuke could almost see the blood oozing from Itachi's heart in the aftermath.

Sasuke reached Itachi, sat down beside him, and then did what he naturally felt was right. Wrapping Itachi up in his arms, despite Itachi being taller, seemed unnaturally easy even after their weeks of silence, and Sasuke said against his brother's long hair, “I know Itachi. And I love you too. More than you could ever know,  _ aniki _ .”

For the first time in Sasuke's life, he witnessed his brother weep as if he had lost something precious and was mourning its loss.


	11. Without Basis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm doing better. Had a bone marrow transplant (thank you Tumblr for your support in reblogging that post like a bitch and finding me a match with the flood of registrations!) and it's taking well. I feel incredibly positive right now, so fucking positive, it's probably going to seep into my writing for the next few chapters. Because I have finished two and am halfway done with the third. This story is being updated hardcore, baby!
> 
> This chapter is pretty intense. Mah bad. No regrets. I like the next one better. Kisses and hugs from this ecstatic author!

Chapter Eleven  
 _Without Basis_

"There's a period of life when we swallow a knowledge of ourselves and it becomes either good or sour inside."  
 _Pearl Bailey_

It was almost easy to fancy the terrible thought that Itachi had simply died.

If it hadn't been for the uneven and wet-sounding breaths Itachi was taking, the slow tears that still left his eyes sporadically, the flush on his cheeks or swollen eyelids, or the anguished small noises that occasionally left Itachi's closed lips, Sasuke would've full-heartedly believed it. He had never seen Itachi in such a dead sleep before, no flickers of his eyes behind his eyelids and the movement of his chest all but non-existent, and it was frightening.

Sasuke was reluctant to wake his brother up so he could put Itachi to bed, because the poor kid hadn't slept in ages if the horrible dark circles could speak for themselves, but sleeping against Sasuke in this freezing cold room would only make him achy and sick in the long run. Sasuke took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever Itachi decided to wake up as, and finally shook him awake, frowning heavily at the fact that he felt thin in the shoulders.

It took a moment, but Itachi did eventually wake, blinking blearily in the darkness. He seemed rather confused, his hands immediately coming to his eyes to touch the wetness that still lingered, and seemed to realise what had happened. He covered his face with his hands and pushed himself up, his head leaving Sasuke's lap and trying to seem like nothing had happened at all. It hurt, watching him try to pull away metaphorically as well as physically, and Sasuke almost wanted to pull him back into a hug. He didn't though, knowing that Itachi was still coming to terms with what had occurred, whatever that might've been.

His mind still whirling with unanswered questions, Sasuke stood up and reached out, nudging his shoulder gently to get his brother's attention. Quietly, he said, "I have your glasses so don't worry about that. Let's just get you to bed."

Itachi stood up without uncovering his face but didn't make any effort to move. They stood there together in the freezing cold studio for what felt like hours, Sasuke trying not to shiver as he waited for Itachi to mentally get himself together, but eventually he finally lowered his hands by dragging them across his face. His eyes were still bloodshot and swollen, and there was still moisture clinging to his cheeks and long eyelashes, but he looked more put-together than he had before. Sasuke wasn't sure whether to be thankful for that fact that he looked more in control or disappointed that Itachi wasn't confiding in him.

They slowly walked through the studio and out the door, Sasuke closing it behind them after his eyes had checked the hallway just to make sure that fucking captain wasn't watching them. Not like Sasuke would've been able to find him if he  _had_ , because ANBU were more than capable of blending in like ghosts if they so wished. Sasuke knew this house pretty well due to months of familiarisation, but it was the ANBU's job to hide in plain sight and he didn't doubt their proficiency at such a feat even in a well-known location.

Sasuke helped his brother into Itachi's room and into bed, and fortunately Itachi didn't fight him, wearily obliging Sasuke and slipping underneath his covers. Sasuke placed his glasses on the nightstand next to Itachi's alarm clock – not that he ever used the damn thing, since he was always up at some God awful hour in the morning, but he always set it just in case – and then sighed, staring down at the glasses. His head was actually starting to hurt, maybe from the lack of sleep but mostly from the questions and concerns that wouldn't  _shut up_  in his brain.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, as much as he could anyway, and then made his way to the armchair in the far corner of the room. He sat down ungracefully, practically flopping down, and pulled off his own glasses, rubbing his face tiredly. He just needed to calm down and get some sleep himself, just so he could function tomorrow. He was likely going to be in serious pain tomorrow of course, considering that he wasn't leaving Itachi's room tonight, but perhaps it wouldn't be too bad since the armchair wasn't uncomfortable in the slightest.

"What're you doing?" came Itachi's voice, small and muffled as if he was talking from underneath his blankets.

Without opening his eyes, Sasuke replied, "I'm not leaving you alone."

After a brief moment of silence, Itachi muttered, "I'm fine. Go to bed." His voice sounded even smaller, but there was a hint of acceptance that Sasuke was pleased to hear. Honestly the heir had expected Itachi to completely close off again after his breakdown, but his tone wasn't defensive whatsoever. It was comforting to say the least, and he appreciated that Itachi wasn't hiding behind his customary stoicism and cold veneer.  
Besides, Sasuke knew what  _fine_  meant for Itachi, and fine wasn't good at all.

"Oh I have no doubt that you'll be fine, but I want you to be  _okay_. Big difference, Itachi. Besides, I know you aren't going to do anything stupid – it's that captain that won't leave you alone I don't like."

This time Itachi responded immediately, almost  _harshly_  in a way, surprisingly defensive all of the sudden. "He won't hurt me."

Sasuke finally opened his eyes, frowning heavily and eyes narrowed in confusion as looked in Itachi's direction. He wasn't sure what was more strange, that Itachi was defensive of the captain or the fact that he sounded so damn sure of the words he spoke. There was no way that Itachi could  _ever_  be sure that the captain would have his well-being in mind, because ANBU were practically government-approved criminals and that was all there was to it. ANBU was an organisation of psychos and freaks, and if Itachi honestly believed that he was safe around them, then perhaps he needed to have his head checked instead of his blood.

"You can't know that for sure, Itachi. I know that..." Sasuke paused, and then continued almost venomously, "I know that you  _think_  that your safe with him, though I can't imagine what gave you  _that_  idea, but no matter how sure you are that he won't hurt you, I don't trust him. I don't care what you think, he's still a monster Itachi, or at least the job is."

"They keep this country safe, Sasuke. They keep our family safe. Monsters don't do that, and they aren't monsters." Itachi sounded so secure, so utterly truthful, but Sasuke knew better. What had that fucking captain  _done_  to Itachi to make him believe those lies?

"I'm not arguing with you about this," said Sasuke decisively. "I don't know why you're suddenly acting like a brainwashed version of yourself when it comes to those guys, but I'm not going to argue about it. I'm staying in here if only for my own piece of mind. Just humour me, Itachi, okay?"

"Are you going to sleep in that armchair until I move out for university then?" asked Itachi, and there was a bite in his tone that hadn't been there before. It caused him to shudder, because wow his brother sounded  _sarcastic_  and that was rare.

Instead of getting angry, though he was quite angry to be honest, Sasuke bit back, "No, but I can have my bed moved in here permanently, and if Father doesn't like that then I'll tell him that captain has been bothering you and have him reassigned."

Itachi shot up out of bed and stumbled over to Sasuke like there was a fire in his bed. It made Sasuke jump because he had never seen his brother move that fast other than on the gymnastics mat or the track, and he almost wanted to cringe when Itachi knelt at the foot of the armchair and glared in the darkness like he could murder Sasuke with his eyes alone. "You. Will.  _Not_. Do. That." Itachi's voice was hard as diamond and cold as ice, whispered like a deadly caress, each word punctuated with a small pause that placed an ominous emphasis on how serious Itachi was. Continuing in the same brutal whisper, "You do that and I swear Sasuke, I will  _never_  forgive you for it. Don't you  _dare_."

Sasuke opened his mouth to speak but couldn't get anything out, completely terrified of his brother for the first time in his life. He knew that Itachi could be venomous when he chose to, but Itachi was one of the calmest, most peaceful people Sasuke knew, and this was just out of character for him. Particularly in regards to Sasuke, who had never been at the receiving end before.

Finally though, after a few seconds of gaping at his brother's darkened form, Sasuke managed to ask, "You would rather risk your safety than one ANBU being reassigned in order to make me feel better? You'd choose him over me?"

All of the spite evaporated instantly like water to flames, and Itachi visibly deflated as his eyes fell to the ground. Sasuke could hear Itachi's staccato-like breathing as if he was trying to calm himself down or keeping himself from having a panic attack, something that Itachi suffered from that Sasuke was unfortunately familiar with, and he couldn't help but lean forward and lay his hands gently on Itachi's shoulders. He gave Itachi a moment to collect himself, his heart racing with a series of emotions that even he couldn't figure out, until Itachi finally looked back into Sasuke's eyes.

"Sasuke, I—" Itachi's voice broke, his breathing elevating slightly and his body shuddering slightly under Sasuke's hands. He finally finished after a moment, "I'll always choose you, always, but I want you to trust me. I'm your big brother, and I'll always be there for you even when I'm not, but I need you to trust me when I say that I'll be okay." Itachi took a deep breath and finished, " _Please_ , Sasuke. Please trust me on this. I know I'm not making any sense, and I know you're confused and scared, but I need you to believe in me, believe in the fact that I know what I'm doing and that I'll never put you or Mother or Father in harm's way. Please, Sasuke, I need you to believe in me right now, more than ever. Promise me you won't tell Father to reassign him."

Sasuke didn't know how to respond. "Itachi—"

" _Promise me_ ," begged Itachi, literally begging as his hands cradled Sasuke's face in his palms. He was genuinely shaking now, whether in desperation or fear or who the fuck even  _knew_  any more, and Sasuke's chest hurt from it all. How was he supposed to respond to this, how was he supposed to feel? His brother, his beloved older brother who he loved more than even himself, was begging for him to promise something that Sasuke  _couldn't_  swear to, because he loved Itachi so much to ever put him in a dangerous position. Being around that captain, who had made Itachi cry and brought those emotions in his eyes, was dangerous, and Sasuke couldn't promise something that would break both of them in the process. How was he supposed to respond, when ever molecule in his body was screaming at him to deny Itachi's request, because nothing good could come of it?

But his brother was pleading with him for this, and Sasuke had never been able to deny his brother. When had Itachi ever led him wrong? Itachi had never asked Sasuke for something without weighing all of the pros and cons, and only after deliberating for ages as to whether it was worth to ask for. He didn't simply jump into things without thinking about it first, because he was logical and sound of mind, even if his request now was totally insane and seemingly without basis. Itachi was smart, and analytical, and a thousand other things that just proved that no matter what, he would never steer Sasuke down a road that would prove to be unwise.

He had to accept,  _had_  to, because otherwise he could lose his brother, and for good this time. Even if Sasuke believed with all his heart that Itachi was wrong and crazy to beg for such a thing, there had to be a good reason for it. It had to be important, desperately essential, or Itachi wouldn't have asked Sasuke for such a blanket trust for something he couldn't even understand.

"I promise," he finally said, heart breaking into a thousand pieces because he always was true to his word and he  _didn't want to promise this_ , "but on one condition."

Itachi quickly replied, his voice shakily, "What do you want?"

Sasuke took a moment to collect his thoughts. He needed to speak clearly and truthfully, because he didn't want Itachi to get a different meaning from this. He had to get his point across with precision, for he knew that if he didn't he could end up wanting something that Itachi didn't know he had to give. That was the last thing he needed to result from this, some miscommunication that could've been easily avoided if he had articulated himself properly.

When he was sure that he was prepared to speak and wouldn't break out into frustrated screams in the process, Sasuke said, "I need you to trust me too. Maybe not with this, at least not until you're ready, but I need you to trust me just like you need me to trust you. I need you to let me in, not sometimes, not all the time, but just enough that I know you're alright. You shut me out  _all the time_ , Itachi, and I  _hate_  it, because it feels like you're slipping away from me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm afraid that you'll fade away and you won't ever come back, and I'll hate  _myself_  for letting it happen because you'll be a stranger and I won't know who you are any more."

Sasuke took a deep breath, almost disgusted by the fact that he felt like fucking crying, and then continued softly, "Every single part of me wants to run screaming to Father right now, because this is wrong and I hate that I'm willing to agree to this because those people are  _destructive_. I don't know how it would happen and I don't know why I feel that way, but it's true and I help feeling that in my gut. So please,  _please_  don't make me regret agreeing to this. Let me in so I know you're safe, so I know that you aren't breaking down, even if it's uncomfortable for you to talk about it. You need to let me be there for you like you're always there for me, because I don't want to lose you over this. I don't want to lose you  _ever_ , do you understand? I don't want to grow to hate you, and I don't want to be indifferent to you either. If only for my sake, let me in so I know that you care about me just like you claim, because right now all I see is a stranger that's drifting farther away from me every second that goes by."

Itachi was silent except for his breathing, but to Sasuke's absolute horror Itachi was crying again, silently but no less heart-wrenching. His entire body was practically heaving with the force of it, miraculously not making any noise while doing it, and Sasuke despised his emotions right then because he could feel his nose burning and his eyes beginning to water too. It almost hurt trying to keep it in but he needed to know that Itachi would agree, that his big brother wasn't going to just disappear into this person he didn't know and would  _never_  know.

"Itachi say something," Sasuke whispered against the shaking hands on his cheeks, not wanting to reach out or even move out of fear that Itachi would say no, trying not to give into the urge to hold his brother for dear life and beg. He had to stay in control because this was a deal that was going to change everything. If Itachi said no, then Sasuke had no qualms waking Fugaku up in order to get the captain removed. Honestly he still thought it was the best option, the only option, to keep Itachi safe from whatever in the hell was going on, but he knew he would lose his brother in the process. An Uchiha never went back on his word, even if it killed them to do it, and he was fully aware that Itachi would never forgive him for reassigning the captain. Their bond would be irreparably damaged and Sasuke couldn't chance that, because nothing scared him more than his brother becoming a stranger to him. Sasuke couldn't survive it, he couldn't, and he simply wouldn't. He would fight kicking and screaming in order to keep it from happening, even if it meant agreeing to something like this that was fundamentally wrong.

"Okay," Itachi choked out through his silent crying, and then began repeating it over and over, sometimes in a shaky tone, sometimes in a whisper, but often without making any noise at all, just mouthing those two syllables. Sasuke felt his body being pulled off the chair and into his brother's arms, Itachi burning up against him and completely out of control with his crying and shaking. Sasuke couldn't help breaking down then, a weight being lifted off his chest while an equal weight settled on his shoulders, because he was trading one evil for another and it shouldn't have happened at all. But he was sworn to it, and he would keep his word, at least until Itachi gave him a reason to nullify it – which would likely never happen, because Itachi would try, Sasuke knew he would.

Sasuke sat there and fucking sobbed, his nose buried in Itachi's neck and fingers digging into Itachi's shoulder blades, while Itachi did the same, forehead against Sasuke's own shoulder. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position and it hurt to hold it for so long, but he didn't have it in him to move. The little part of his brain that was still working wondered if anyone was hearing them, two teenagers pretty much bawling in the middle of the night, but in the end he didn't care because maybe things would change for the better despite the horrid deal Sasuke had just agreed to.

After a good five minutes, Sasuke was sweaty from the body heat and crying out his internal organs, head aching and eyes burning, but he knew that they needed to get some rest. He was exhausted, and he was willing to bet his soul that Itachi was dead on his feet, so he sniffled to himself and began pulling the two of them into a standing position. Itachi wouldn't let go of him, silent still and appearing to be calm, and allowed Sasuke to lead them both back to the bed. He helped Itachi into the covers, his brother finally letting go of his shirt, and went around the bed so he could climb in too. It wasn't often that Sasuke allowed himself to sleep in the same room with his brother when they had their own beds, mostly because he worried what it would look like to any outsiders including their parents, but tonight he still didn't have the heart nor drive to leave his brother alone. It had been an emotional night for Sasuke but it had been an emotional few months for Itachi, and he just didn't have it in him to leave for that reason alone.

A part of him didn't like the idea of leaving him for the captain to find either, but he shook the thought off as soon as it crossed his mind, because Itachi had promised him that he would be fine. Sasuke did need to trust him on that at least.

Within moments, Sasuke could hear Itachi's breathing even out, his brother curled up on his side like he always slept with a pillow wrapped in his arms, utterly wiped out. It took a bit longer for Sasuke to follow in his brother's footsteps though, because despite his tiredness he still had a thousand things on his mind. He took off his own glasses and put them on the opposite end table, staring at the dark ceiling as his thoughts whirled around in his head, so he began counting to a thousand in his head, hoping that it would work despite his brain refusing to shut down. He matched his breathing to Itachi's, feeling his heart slow and hearing his breathing follow suit, and even without realising it, he was lost to the depths of merciful unconsciousness.

* * *

Itachi felt himself wake up rather suddenly.

He blinked his scratchy eyes once, twice, and then on the third blink he glanced over to his left. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Crow against the wall, looking out the window as the moonlight illuminated his porcelain mask, and he tried to focus on the unchanging persona in vain. He reached out instinctively for his glasses but suddenly Crow grasped his hand mid-reach and finally looked at him, though perhaps he was looking at Sasuke, who had curled up against Itachi in his sleep. Itachi's eyesight was pretty atrocious, so it was ultimately hard to tell. Something told Itachi that Crow was focussed on him though, because he could feel those unseen eyes on his face like a brand.

The blurry shape of Crow knelt down beside the bed and Itachi lost sight of him except a vague outline of his body, a strange lump where his porcelain mask would be, and a bright silver blur on his head, proving that his cloak was off so his hair would show. Maybe it was the heat, because Itachi was burning up and had kicked his covers off during the night except for the tangle around his legs, but Itachi had an inkling that his overheating body had more to do with the extra body occupying his bed. Two people in one bed, no matter how large, tended to make said bed the rough temperature of a furnace.

He stopped reaching for the glasses and simply let his fingers thread through Crow's gloved ones, wondering how much the captain had heard of the conversation between Itachi and Sasuke. He had probably heard all of it, whether through his subordinates or from his own two ears, but Itachi didn't mind. Even though it was invasive and almost creepy in a way, he approved of the fact that he wouldn't have to repeat himself, because Itachi knew he would be having ANBU-centric conversations with Crow in the future. It was inevitable, and while Itachi wasn't looking forward to it per se, he was acknowledging that he had no choice.

He blinked again, slowly, as Crow leant down, and he heard Crow whisper almost silently in his masculine and oh-so attractive timbre, "Close your eyes, just-Itachi."

Itachi obeyed immediately, without hesitation or fear. He had nothing to be scared of, because Crow and the Emperor didn't want him dead. If they had, Itachi would've been dead ages ago. No, they wanted to induct him into their ranks, and they needed him alive for that. Besides, Itachi inexplicably trusted the captain, though it wasn't logical or sane to do so, and he knew that Crow would never hurt him until the Emperor gave the order, something that Itachi had given no reason for executing. He had no fear for this man, or the Emperor, because he knew that if the order ever was given, Crow would be merciful in dealing his death.

He heard a low shuffling sound, though he could not put a name to it, and simply waited patiently for whatever Crow was preparing for. He could feel the man beside him, the heat and closeness of him easing into Itachi's consciousness, and he felt almost drowsy at the strange comfort he felt. His brother was beside him, safe and sound, and Crow was on his other side, holding his hand and still present despite the way Itachi had reacted to Crow's bombshell. It was soothing, really, and Itachi wasn't going to question it.

"I am so sorry for telling you like that, just-Itachi," Crow sighed in his ear, his voice sounding less muffled than usual, and Itachi's eyes clenched together tightly to keep them closed. He could finally put a term to the noise he had heard, and he yearned to open his eyes and look at what Crow looked like without the porcelain hiding his features. Of course, the fact that his voice was still slightly muffled indicated that the other strange mask he wore underneath was still in place, probably to guarantee that Itachi would see his face in entirety if he peeked, but Itachi wasn't the type of person to betray anyone's trust in such a dirty manner. If Crow ever wanted to show him, Itachi wanted it to be because Crow  _allowed_  him to and not because Itachi had forced his hand. Maybe one day, if Itachi was so lucky, Crow would let Itachi see with his own two eyes.

Crow continued in that alluring, barely-there whisper, "I do not regret telling you, because I won't let you go into this blind, but I am sorry for how it was revealed to you. I never meant for it to happen that way." He felt Crow's empty hand brush his cheek, gloved fingers tracing the lines that creased down his cheeks, and Itachi exhaled in response, the skin tingling in the aftermath.

Itachi whispered back, "It's alright. It would've been talked to eventually. I don't blame you."

Crow sighed, his filtered breath ghosting over Itachi's ear and making him shiver. Crow must've noticed because his cloth-covered thumb began caressing the base of Itachi's own, and he felt the captain lean his forehead onto Itachi's temple. It was soothing but it made him feel so warm, and he absently wondered if he was supposed to feel awkward or hostile towards Crow because of the conversation they had had in Itachi's studio.

He didn't though; all he felt was contentment, his heart pounding steadily and breathing slow and even. It was probably unhealthy, being soothed by his sleeping brother on one side and an ANBU captain on the other, but he didn't mind. He felt at home here, just on the edge of sleep and surrounded by two people he cared about. For he did care about Crow, for some unexplainable reason, and he knew that it wouldn't change unless Crow did the unspeakable and harmed his brother.

He hoped that never happened. He wasn't sure how he would survive that.

Crow continued in a soft murmur, "There is proper procedure for that discussion and I did not follow it. I will be punished for the transgression, I assure you."

That was alarming. He forced himself from his bubble of contentment and frowned, turning his head towards Crow. The captain allowed it, his forehead now resting against Itachi's, as the ex-heir said quietly, "I don't want that to happen. You did nothing wrong and you shouldn't be punished for that."

"I did wrong, just-Itachi. I ignored standard process in initiation and that is against the rules. It is my obligation to report my misconduct to my chain of command in order to be reprimanded." Crow didn't sound resigned or guilty though, and Itachi decided that he could jump on that. Perhaps if he convinced Crow that he had done the right thing in telling Itachi, the captain wouldn't be punished. Itachi didn't even want to imagine how the ANBU punished their own, or if the Emperor would find out. He didn't know if the 'transgression' as he had called it would result in his reassignment either. He couldn't handle that, and it would make his deal with Sasuke completely pointless on Itachi's end.

"If you hadn't told me, I would've found out later," Itachi whispered, trying to accentuate how serious he was about this. "If that would've happened, I would've reacted a lot worse. It's better this way, because now I can actually think about my options with all of the facts before making an educated decision." Not that Crow needed to know that Itachi was still planning on declining the offer (if he was even allowed). "You did the right thing, and I'm thankful for it. You shouldn't be punished for that."

Crow sighed again and squeezed his hand. "I have to report it no matter your personal feelings. It is my duty. If it makes you feel any better, I doubt the punishment will be severe."

"Will you be reassigned?" Itachi heard himself ask without his volition, his voice a bit louder. They both paused when Sasuke moved in his sleep at the noise, moving a bit farther away in the process, and even after he had stilled they didn't speak. Itachi was waiting for Crow's response anyway, and neither one of them wanted Sasuke to wake up in the middle of their conversation. Itachi was listening to Sasuke very closely for any changes in breathing patterns or the such, and he would bet his left hand that Crow was as well.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Itachi felt Crow relax against him. "I will not be reassigned," he assured Itachi, and there was a small exhale of what could've been laughter from the captain when Itachi visibly sank into his bed, relieved. He wondered what Crow's reaction to that had been, because Itachi's eyes were still closed tightly to keep from giving into the temptation to peek. It wasn't like Itachi hadn't been obvious in the idea that he wanted Crow to still be around, Itachi's deal with Sasuke proving that fact. He was curious if Crow really  _was_  amused by his relief.

"You're sure?" Itachi heard himself ask, mindful to keep his voice low this time.

Crow squeezed his hand once more and replied, "Yes. The Emperor, may he live forever, will not transfer me for such a small issue. He is fully aware of my affiliation with you, for I have told him and so have my comrades, and assigning me to a different unit will be viewed as...letting a good opportunity slip away."

Itachi almost didn't want to ask but he had to anyway. Feeling heat flood his cheeks due to his confession, Itachi asked quietly, "He knows that I'm attracted to you?"

Crow hesitated and Itachi's heart stopped. However, he didn't even get a moment to panic before Crow said calmly, "It would've been impossible to hide it from him due to the reports of other captains and operatives, but I did tell him of my affections, yes. It was my moral obligation. I anticipated, or rather hoped, that he would reassign me then, but he chose another path."

For a split-second, Itachi nearly broke into hysterical laughter because Crow had just confirmed it. Itachi had contemplated and wondered if he had simply read too much into their responses together, or at least gotten a little too worked up about everything. It had been clear that Itachi was wildly and irresponsibly attracted to the man, but when he had been at school or staring at his ceiling in a sleepless daze, all of their meetings and talks had come back into the forefront of his mind. Itachi didn't know how this all worked, how two people got involved or at least took things to the next level, so it was fair to assume that he had simply imagined the perceived mutual feelings between them. He had tried to dissuade himself of an unknown, almost hoping that he could convince himself that he had been completely mental, because then things maybe would've gone back to normal. Itachi would've stopped humanising the ANBU and feeling a morbid connection with them, and his mind and body would've started stabilising out. Maybe it would've helped with the creative block he had been suffering from.

He had eventually just accepted his attraction and had then continued to convince himself that it was just a physical thing, though he hadn't been very successful with  _that_  internal argument either. He just really liked Crow as a person, even if he was still a virtual stranger. Itachi still couldn't wrap his head around that at all but it was a fact regardless.

However, Crow had just admitted it. Maybe he had because  _Itachi_  had admitted it just before and out loud for anyone to hear, but nevertheless it was out there now and there was no taking it back. Crow was attracted to Itachi, though Itachi couldn't imagine why since people tended to gravitate to Sasuke and other Uchiha rather than him, but there was the end of  _that_  denial.

"God," Itachi whispered, not sure if it was in regards to the complete shock he felt at such a mutual confession or if it was because the fucking  _Emperor_  knew about it.

Crow hummed in response, though Itachi didn't know what he was responding to, and then murmured in a low, husky timbre, "The Emperor, may he live forever, knows and yet he still allows this to happen, to grow between us. I don't know whether to be thankful for it or to hate him for permitting it to happen."

"Why would you hate it?" asked Itachi quietly, trying not to read too much into that. He couldn't blame Crow for feeling it either, because Itachi felt like he was on a similar wave length.

Confirming Itachi's internal thoughts, Crow answered, "We won't have to protect you forever, and should you decline the invitation, I will never see you again. If you decline it, you will be a distant and untouchable memory, hidden behind a glass wall for me to watch behind my mask at public functions and political parties. I will never get to talk to you again, or listen to you breathe, or..." He trailed off, and then there was a light brush of fabric against his forehead, the softest and most gentle of kisses.

Itachi inhaled sharply, eyes clenching almost painfully as he fought to keep them closed, because he wanted to respond, to kiss the man back, to taste him on his lips. His back arched as his right hand reached up, threading his fingers into Crow's hair as his left tightened its grip on Crow's hand. The silver locks were surprisingly coarse, thick and heavy in his fingers, and it helped keep him in place right where Itachi wanted him. He could feel those gloved fingers cupping his face around his ear, fingers digging into his scalp, and Itachi's body  _burned_  with it, the raw desire that sent fire through his bloodstream. He could feel Crow's breath on his lips, hot and heady, slightly erratic just like Itachi's own.

Every bit of him wanted to bring him closer, to press his lips against Crow's masked ones, to let Crow take every part of Itachi that he could. He yearned for it, for their bodies to be pressed against one another so Crow could  _feel_  how aroused Itachi was just from the  _thought_  of it, because he was aching in a way he had never experienced before.

But Sasuke was here and Itachi would never be lewd enough to do such actions with his baby brother at his side.

Itachi couldn't stop the tiny groan from creeping up his throat, from arousal and frustration, and the sound made Crow's breath hitch. Itachi was shaking desperately and he  _wanted it_ , he wanted  _all_  of it, and so he heard himself whisper, "Put your mask back or I'll lose myself."

There was a beat of silence, both of them tense, before Crow asked in a low tone, "What if I want you to?"

Itachi's eyelids fluttered, fingers tightening in Crow's hair, and he couldn't stop himself from bringing that hidden face to his own.

Itachi's first kiss wasn't what he had always expected. For one, Sasuke was sleeping not even a metre away, completely oblivious to what was happening beside him as he dreamt, and to be honest that was more than a bit strange. Secondly, it was with someone that was over the age of consent while Itachi was seventeen and still under that line of legality, not that it mattered much to him – the idea of an older man was much more alluring than some young, inexperienced, selfish boy from school. Also, it was with someone who he never would've expected, considering that Crow was still ANBU and a captain at that. But most unexpectedly, the fabric was strange against his lips, soft and silky like spandex but in the way of a full connection regardless.

All the same, Itachi could still feel the full lips against his own, outlined so delicately behind the mask and still so heated that the mask was practically overlooked. He could still feel Crow cradling his head lightly, tilting their heads to get a better angle despite the fact that it was a gentle connection instead of a fiery one. He could feel Crow's nose against his cheek, also covered in fabric but still definitively there, little moments of heat warming his skin as Crow exhaled through his nose in order to keep their lips connected. He could feel Crow's strong hand in his own, outstretched towards the nightstand as Crow leant over him and claimed him in a soft but passionate connection.

Itachi  _ached_.

When they pulled away from each other after what seemed like only a moment, Crow pressed his forehead against Itachi, their noses together and both of them breathing erratically against the other's lips. Itachi's death-grip on Crow's hair lessened some, though the tension in his body had only increased because of what they had just done. A part of him wanted to get out of bed quietly as to not wake Sasuke, take Crow into the spare bedroom, and take off all of his clothes, but the very thought frightened him even though his body wanted it so-so-so badly. He had never been in this position before and he didn't know what to expect, though he certainly understood the mechanics of it, so he was...scared.

He wanted it, wanted everything, but he needed to process this and think about what would happen next. They had reached a point of no return, because now they were on the same page with their desire of each other and had kissed (oh my God that had happened and Itachi shuddered at the thought), and Itachi knew that if they continued there would only be one conclusion. It was a conclusion that he knew he was okay with, but he needed to be mentally prepared and maybe they were moving too fast after the roller coaster of emotions Itachi had gone through in the space of only a few hours.

He heard a faint voice, so distant that Itachi didn't even know if it was just his imagination or not, but the tension in Crow's body faded into a warm embrace. Itachi sighed, because the voice definitely wasn't his imagination – he had simply never been close enough to Crow in order to hear his headpiece work before.

"You have to go to your patrol, don't you?" asked Itachi. In a way he was relived for the reprieve, because Crow would leave and Itachi could finally think past the desire in his blood, but at the same time he didn't want Crow to  _ever_  leave. Crow wasn't part of the detail that followed him to school or watched his family during evening activities, his shift starting at 2200 and ending at 0600, so it would be a while before Itachi could see him again.

Though judging by the abysmally poor amount of sleep he had been getting for the past few months, Itachi did need a break. He had to get some sleep or he was going to end up dead from pure exhaustion.

"Yes, I must leave now," replied Crow, beginning to pull away. Itachi let him, both appreciative of the space and detesting the idea of letting go, and kept his eyes shut as he listened to the rustle beside him. "You may open your eyes now, just-Itachi," Crow said once his porcelain-esque mask was back upon his face, and Itachi allowed his eyes to slowly open, taking in the tall, regal length of the man he had just kissed as much as he could with his horrible vision.

Crow murmured a response in his headset that Itachi couldn't catch, and then asked, "Will you be able to sleep?"

Itachi nodded faintly against his pillow before he whispered, "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Very well," Crow replied quietly. "I will not come to you tonight, to give you time to...think about whatever you wish and to catch up on your rest and personal hobbies. Perhaps you will find inspiration to paint."

A ghost of a smile crept up onto Itachi's lips. "Thank you," he breathed out, blinking heavily at Crow as he was suddenly overcome with heavy exhaustion.

Crow reached out and brushed a long, stray lock of hair back behind Itachi's ear, the tenderness of the action making Itachi lean into it. "Good night, Itachi," he whispered softly in his masculine timbre, saying only Itachi's given name for the first time, and Itachi's tired smile widened.

"Good night, Crow," he murmured back, and watched as the heavily blurry figure walked slowly out the door.

* * *

When the alarm went off at six-thirty, Itachi unplugged it from the wall drowsily and dozed off.

When his father came in a bit later, at what time Itachi wasn't sure, Itachi forced himself to sit up and pull on his glasses. He was uncoordinated and nearly fell over when he attempted to get out of bed so he could shower and get ready for school, but thankfully his Fugaku was there and caught him before he could fall to the floor.

"'m gettin' up," Itachi mumbled, his words sounding slurred and pathetic even in his own ears, head pounding from lack of sleep, and he tried to pull himself from Fugaku's grip. He couldn't manage it though, head rolling back and forth from each shoulder as he was held up. He continued in the same exhausted voice, "'m sorry 'm late, gettin' up now."

"Father, he's completely out of it. He had a rough night." Sasuke's voice wasn't nearly as dead-sounding as Itachi's was though it did sound scratchy, and Itachi was happy that Sasuke had been able to get some rest. It hadn't been fair to—

Itachi lost his train of thought due to his brain's inability to work. At the same time, Fugaku replied in his low, stern voice, "Itachi, get back into bed. It's a Saturday, so you don't need to be up. I was just checking up on you since you're usually awake by now even on the weekends."

"No..." Itachi argued, uncharacteristically, because he never really argued, even when he really wanted to. He wondered if he was blinking, because his sandpaper eyelids wouldn't open more than halfway and did that even count? "Missed a lot of school this year...attendance is bad, not good for my..." He lost his train of thought again as he tried to push himself upright. If he splashed some cold water on his face he would wake up. All he needed was coffee and he would be fine. He had gone longer without sufficient sleep, so this was nothing to worry about. He could do this just fine.

Wait, it was Saturday?

"No you're going back to bed, so don't argue with me," demanded Fugaku. It wasn't hard to manhandle him back into bed to be truthful, because Itachi was not in control of his body and his thoughts kept fading on him.

"Sasuke, make sure he doesn't get out of bed," Itachi heard his father say distantly, as if he had been speaking at the other end of a long tunnel. Sasuke replied something back but Itachi couldn't focus on it to understand the words.

Despite his father's demand for Itachi to quit arguing and the fact that it was Saturday, he heard himself say as Fugaku pulled the blankets back over him, "Just need coffee and...cold shower. I'll be..."

He didn't even get to finish his sentence before he was unconscious.


	12. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys – real life shit came up. Anyway, the 'M' rating comes into play here. Just so you know. Avert your eyes if you have a problem with yummy stuff kiddies – shit is heating up, babeh.
> 
> Unbeta'd like usual. Have fun with this one.

Chapter Twelve  
_Heat_

"Deep within man dwell those slumbering powers, powers that would astonish him, that he never dreamed of possessing, forces that would revolutionise his life if aroused and put into action."  
_Orison Swett Marden_

Itachi slept for at least sixteen hours straight after Fugaku had put him back to bed.

When Sasuke got home from his lunch date with Sakura, Itachi was still unconscious, his body still in the same side position that he had fallen asleep in hours previously. The Uchiha heir watched his brother for a long time from the doorway of Itachi's room, before he finally went back to his gaming sanctuary, where  _Call of Duty_  was waiting.

He gamed for a bit, dying pretty consistently because his mind was elsewhere and he really was tired too, and periodically checked up on Itachi to make sure that he wasn't dead or something. Sasuke was pleased that Itachi was getting some sleep, but it was still strange because Itachi never slept longer than seven hours unless he was sick. Checks of his temperature were in the negative for fever though, and he wasn't sweaty or restless, so Sasuke figured it wasn't a stomach bug or something and he resigned to simply let Itachi sleep it out. God knew Itachi needed it.

Sasuke fell asleep after dinner in the middle of fiddling with a computer he had torn apart. When he woke up, blinking rapidly as he tried to figure out where he was, he noted that it was past midnight and it had been a while since he had checked up on his brother. Wearily, wondering if that captain was bothering him again since he obviously had the night patrols, he made his way to Itachi's room.

He didn't even make it inside Itachi's room, because there was a lot of banging coming from Itachi's studio. Sasuke cocked his head, wondering if Itachi was painting and curious as to whether their talk had contributed to his inspiration coming back if so, and then lightly made his way to the cracked doorway.

Sasuke knocked gently, then louder once he realised that Itachi was making way too much damn noise to hear anything past his own banging. The door opened a bit wider, just enough for Sasuke to poke his head through, and he laughed out loud at the sight.

A wet-headed Itachi was in a white, fluffy bathrobe, earbuds in his ears and mouthing along to the music, as he practically glided around the studio. He was cleaning up if Sasuke judged it correctly, because it did look quite a bit more tidy than it had before though it was certainly still a disaster area. Itachi was holding one of the legs of the broken easel in his right hand, occasionally knocking things over with it as he swung it around, sending sketchbooks flying in all sorts of directions. At the same time, he was taking destroyed paint containers and brushes to the sink, leaving them inside so he could clean them up later, or picking up books and canvas sheets to place back in their proper place. It was hit-and-miss, because Itachi was sort of cleaning the studio while he simultaneously broke things with his wooden easel leg that he brandished like a sword.

His brother was weird.

Itachi finally saw Sasuke by the door and waved him in, turning back around and stabbing a finished painting with his mock sword. It didn't go through, since it wasn't sharp enough, but it did knock the thing down to the floor with a loud clatter. His brother didn't take out his earbuds either, so Sasuke just shook his head in amusement and stretched out on the stained couch in the corner, watching his brother do...whatever it was he was doing.

He seemed to be in a better mood, though Sasuke wasn't sure if it was the agreement they had come to or the fact that he had slept his entire Saturday away. Regardless, Sasuke was just pleased to see that Itachi's dark circles had faded a bit and there was a bit more life in his step. That was really all he had hoped for. Maybe Itachi would regress later, but for now Sasuke was just going to appreciate this while it lasted.

Sasuke watched his brother go about the studio for a good while, cleaning this and that and whacking whatever he fancied, completely content to watch the madness. He was, not for the first time, relieved that the studio was soundproof, because while their parents' room was on the other end of their home, Itachi was still making quite the racket. Occasionally Itachi would murmur along to whatever he was listening to, indiscernible lyrics that Sasuke couldn't quite catch, though it sounded like something from the R&B artist Killer Bee's new album if he wasn't mistaken. It was a bit surprising since it wasn't Itachi's usual music choice, but Sasuke quite liked it.

Then, rather suddenly, Itachi threw the leg of the easel to the other end of the room with a loud bang and then rushed to the other side of the room, grabbing a tube of silver paint –  _wait, was that_ store _-bought...wasn't that animal-based?_  – and going to one of the white walls closest to the bookshelf by the couch. It was a relatively large section of wall that hadn't been dominated by Itachi's other pieces he had hung up on the walls.

Itachi let out a small, thrilled laugh that made Sasuke's eyes widen in shock before the ex-heir began bobbing his head to the music and squeezing paint directly onto the wall.

Itachi didn't paint or draw on his walls. It was the one thing he never touched, no matter what house they were living in. But he was this time, letting his fingers do all of the work as he began singing the chorus in a tone that was slightly shaky from excitement but still soothing and rather good, a wide smile on his face that showed all his teeth. Definitely from the  _Octopoda_  soundtrack, with the chorus sung by that red-haired chick. Tayuya, he recalled. She had also done a lot of instrumental work on Killer Bee's soundtracks as well, though her solo career was more famous than anything.

Sasuke felt his own lips stretch in a pleased grin. Itachi's inspiration was back. **  
**

Sasuke stood up, completely and totally happy for the first time in what seemed like forever, and left Itachi to his painting. It was likely that Itachi would go for hours now that the block was gone, and Sasuke was loathe to interrupt or distract him.

As Sasuke left, he vaguely placed the beginnings of the painting as a silver bird.

* * *

When Itachi was finished, he practically fell down from relief.

He stared at the crow on his normally pristine walls, silver just like Crow's hair, and felt another laugh bubble out of his chest. God he felt like such an idiot, laughing to himself, but his entire body was tight from elation ( _inspiration!_ ) and euphoria and he couldn't help it. Ever since he had woken up, feeling absolutely fantastic minus the headache from sleeping so long, he had been in an atypical, bubbly mood.

He felt close to his brother, he had his inspiration back, and  _he had kissed Crow_!

He covered his face in his palms, grinning madly and feeling completely delusional.

He finally cupped the bottom half of his face in his hands and stared at the painting on the wall with bright eyes. Was it too much to have a silver crow on his wall? There was no telling how Crow would react to seeing that, because it was pretty damn obvious what was going through his mind when this had come out.

Who cared, his inspiration was back for crying out loud!

He pulled out the earbuds from his ears, relishing in the quiet after the blaring music. He was completely losing his mind, but it was a glorious feeling. He hopped up and began cleaning up his mess. There was no telling how he looked right now, covered in the paint that he had bought before the attack downtown despite his better judgement about animal-based paints, so he needed to clean up before it started soaking into his pores.

He rinsed out his paintbrushes and washed his hands as best as he could, wondering if he had gotten silver paint on his face when he had hid beneath his palms. Oh well, he was on his way to the shower for a late-night soak anyway. Well, late-morning, because it was likely around five in the morning. Sleeping a day away was really going to destroy his sleeping schedule, but at least it was now the holidays.

He made his way to his personal quarters, a definite bounce in his step. He passed an ANBU operative on his way, wiggling his fingers in a greeting as they walked towards each other. The ANBU snickered behind his mask and saluted him, giving him a single hard slap on the shoulder as he past, and Itachi's grin widened even further. Everything was making him happy at the moment, and it was almost embarrassing. He never was this lively when he was in the company of other people, preferring to keep his emotions internal, but he couldn't stop smiling. It was starting to make his cheeks ache to be honest.

He slipped into his room and quickly began tearing off his bathrobe and clothes. By the time he made it to his bathroom, he was half-naked and throwing his shirt into the hamper to the side. He kicked off his pyjama bottoms and pants, tossing them into the hamper as well, before he turned on the water for the shower, now quite familiar with how the handle worked. As the water heated up, he went to the sink in order to take off his necklace, pull out his hair tie, and remove his glasses. When that was accomplished, he could see the steam billowing out from behind the glass wall despite his blurry vision and finally stepped into the shower.

He let the water beat down on his body, bringing him back to the planet instead of on cloud nine, more of a happy state of calm. Like usual, he always had to let his body soak for a bit so it would be easier to get all of the paint off when he started to finally clean himself. So as he waited for that, he let his mind wander like usual.

He wondered what would happen now. Would Crow tell the Emperor of what had happened between the two of them? Crow had sounded positive that the Emperor was strangely supportive of the entire ordeal. Maybe it had been Crow's original mission to seduce Itachi into accepting the invitation. If it was, then it was working wonders.

He didn't think that that was it though. Itachi wasn't even sure how it had started but it hadn't been a premeditated thing. If it had been, Crow would've been much more blatant about it. Not pushy, perhaps, but...conspicuous. Itachi had a lot of experience with boys and girls trying to slither their way into his life, and he was pretty confident that he could spot it if it happened. Maybe ANBU had been trained to seduce potential trainees, but Itachi doubted it. They didn't need to seduce anyone to get new recruits – all they had to do was offer the position and Itachi imagined that it was easy to get approval. Particularly if the potential recruits didn't have families to speak of or had something to hide from. Hell, the thought of protecting the country and its inhabitants was a powerful motivator, even to Itachi himself, and the prospect of disappearing from the world was just as alluring. The bad aspects, mostly the killing and torturing that came with the rank, was a terrible thought, one that was keeping Itachi from welcoming the opportunity with open arms, but someone had to do it. Itachi was still of the opinion that he would be rubbish at it.

But thinking of Crow...no, Itachi didn't believe that their attraction had been an assignment. Crow had seemed too genuine for that, and it had been clearly unexpected between the two of them. Itachi had practically offered himself that night long ago when Crow had inspected his injuries, but the captain had denied him out of pure respect for not only Itachi's inexperience (because surely there was a file on that) but also his injuries. Itachi wasn't an idiot and he knew that there were things they could've done even despite his injuries, but Crow hadn't taken advantage of that. He had simply held him instead.

Either Crow was a damn good actor or he was genuine. And a gentleman, that too.

Methodically, still lost in his thoughts, he began to wash his hair, letting the scent of green tea and alfalfa permeate the bathroom soothingly. He meticulously washed his hair, especially the ends, until he felt no clumps of stuck-together hair in his fingertips. That kiss had definitely been of Itachi's own volition, completely lost in the arousal that had been burning in his blood, and that was undeniable. He had wanted it, and judging by Crow's reaction he had wanted it too.

After he rinsed his hair he put in a generous amount of conditioner, because without it his hair would be a tangled mess and that was painful to comb out. As he let that sit on his hair, he began lathering up a washcloth to finish the rest of his body, starting with the trouble spots like his hands and arms. His mind continued to ponder, because where was this going to go now that they had stepped past that line of talking and acting? Itachi wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he didn't want everything, because he did, but he didn't even know where to start. What was the next step down the road of losing oneself?

The idea of being with Crow intimately was an intoxicating thought. He had never been with another man before, or with anyone really, so he wasn't sure how the natural progression would go. Were they supposed to take it easy and slow, sharing kisses and touching each other without it going too far past an appropriate rating? The idea of being slowly wooed was just as tempting as being tossed onto a bed in a fit of passion, and he felt just as strongly about both options. Itachi knew that jumping into something sexual was a bit out of the ordinary for him, because surely he would be horrid his first time due to inexperience, but it was a distracting image regardless.

And, if he was being entirely truthful to himself, he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back if they were ever alone with each other.

Itachi finished with his hands and forearms, where the majority of paint tended to accumulate, and then began washing his face as he pondered. Crow had been incredibly hesitant with him, maybe due to Itachi's inexperience but likely because the man was still an ANBU. After living behind a mask for so long, if prior comments to Crow's time of service were to be trusted, it probably was incredibly difficult to let that mask drop. Furthermore, Crow was already breaking protocol in a way, though his actions were approved by the Emperor for some strange reason. Admitting attraction to one another was one thing; actually having sex with each other was a different thing entirely. Crow would have to unmask himself, though there were ways to keep Itachi blind like dark rooms or blindfolds, and surely that was something that ANBU just didn't do with people outside their ranks. He couldn't imagine the Emperor being okay with  _that_ , especially if Itachi declined the invitation (which he would) because that would be seen as a breach of security.

If someone outside of the Emperor or ANBU found out about the relationship, there was a chance that it could be used against Crow. Itachi wasn't too full of himself to think that Crow would ever fall in love with him, nor did Itachi believe that he could ever fall in love with Crow, because there were too many issues that made such feelings impossible. Between the secrecy and the masks and protocol and the fact that Itachi was planning on declining the invitation and what Crow  _did_  for a living, there wasn't a chance that they would  _ever_  fall in love. Itachi wouldn't give his heart over so easily to a man that would only disappear in the future, and Crow was too deep in ANBU to have a 'civilian life', so it just wasn't a possibility. Strong feelings, yes, and a sexual connection, but not love. That was an infeasible ending to their likely-to-be-short relationship.

Yes, something more than just mutual attraction and affection was probably off-limits for Crow. Kissing, innocent touching, and other sorts of actions together would likely be the extent of their relationship. There was too much at stake between them due to Crow's profession in ANBU.

Itachi stepped under the spray of the shower, reaching out to twist the handle a tiny bit so hotter water would come out. He rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and the soap off his face, breathing through his mouth with his head bowed as to not get the soapy water in his nose or mouth. When he finished, he finally started on the rest of his body, barely even paying attention.

The thought of actually  _being_  with Crow was a delicious image though. Itachi had no doubt that it would be good for the both of them should it ever happen, because Crow had been nothing but considerate of Itachi's boundaries thus far and would most likely make it an unforgettable experience. Not that it would be forgettable in the first place, because first times were supposed to be special even if they were terrible for either party.

If it did happen (which it wouldn't), it would likely be dark just to make sure, but that would likely only add to the experience. Taking away one sense only amplified the rest of them, and considering what sex entailed, Itachi was for damn sure that it would only increase the sensations. Touch, smell, noise...even thinking about it was enough to make Itachi pause in his ministrations, taking a few seconds to slow his breathing down.

Taking those few seconds, though, made Itachi very aware of his body very suddenly. His skin was tingling and not just from the hot shower, his cheeks feeling flushed from the steam and from the direction his thoughts had taken, and he was fully aware that his body was reacting to the imagined stimuli. His abdomen was tight, a ball of heat curling in his body, enough to make him drop the cloth he had been using to wash himself.

He stood there for a long moment, mind blank except for the buzzing, and wondered if this was crossing a line too. Despite the fact that Itachi was often aroused just by the thought of the ANBU captain, he hadn't actually... _touched_  himself before, simply letting it to go away on its own. Was that even okay to do? Fantasies were fantasies, after all, and it wasn't a crime to touch oneself to thoughts and desires. However, Crow was a real person who Itachi frequently spent a few hours a night with, and it almost seemed wrong to touch himself when they hadn't done anything but kiss.

Then again...Itachi wondered if Crow had touched himself to the thought of Itachi.

Itachi gasped in the back of his throat, his knees nearly buckling at such an image in his head. He had no idea what Crow looked like but it wasn't hard to superimpose an image to Crow's countenance. He was clearly muscular, though still lean and wiry, and his skin was paler than Itachi's own. Maybe a few scars here and there from his childhood and his profession, that ANBU tattoo standing in stark relief against his sculpted bicep. It was easy to imagine what Crow would look like out of that armour, standing in a shower just like Itachi was and touching himself to the thought of Itachi (though anything below the waist was a bit blurry).

Itachi internally argued with himself for a second before reaching out, turning up the hot water just a tad bit more, and finally giving in.

He sighed at the feeling of his hand encircling his arousal, not really stroking himself but simply holding. It was very different from his usual method, because he tended to just get it over with, and he relished the ease into it, letting the water pour over his body steadily. His heart was beating frantically even though he hadn't done anything yet, his breathing erratic, and he reached out with his right arm to prop himself up against the shower wall just in case. He felt a bit weak-kneed as it was and didn't want to fall.

He moved his left hand slowly up the shaft once, a small groan forcing itself from his throat, before twisting slightly at the head, his eyes falling closed as he leant more heavily on his arm. He already felt hypersensitive, every cell in his body charged with tension and electricity, and he probably didn't even need to let his mind wander in order to come to completion, because he was already so close and yet so far away.

But his mind did drift and his hand moved quicker in response.

To be honest, Itachi didn't care much about what Crow would do to him – he was much more interested in what  _he_  could do to  _Crow_. Itachi himself wanted to peel of all those layers, unbuckling every single strap that came with Crow's uniform, slowly pulling that bone-white armour off his body to leave just the sleeveless black tank underneath, sliding those arm guards down his bare forearms and feeling the silky hair against his own fingertips. He wanted to gently run his hands down the front of Crow's chest, the fabric thin against the captain's defined chest, before finally reaching the hem of that tank. Slipping his fingers underneath the fabric would be simple, but Itachi would take his time with it, wanting to treasure every moment, knowing that unwrapping Crow slowly and methodically would be something he would have to take his time for. If Itachi ever had the opportunity to do such an intimate act with the captain, he was going to take it for all it was worth. He probably wouldn't have many more chances, if any at all.

He wondered what sound Crow would make when Itachi's fingers traced the skin of his lower stomach. Maybe he wouldn't even make a sound, too well disciplined in silence to make a noise at all, and would simply exhale softly, like a sigh or a soundless groan. But Itachi was sure that he would respond somehow, either by sound or by reaction, and he could hear it in his head like an echo that wouldn't stop taunting him.

He could vividly see the shirt slowly come up with his own fingers; he could even feel the warmth of Crow's skin as more of his stomach and chest was revealed. Perhaps Itachi was superimposing some unknown individual into Crow's body but he didn't care, completely lost in the fantasy of finally –  _finally_  – getting his hands on the man that was completely consuming him.

Pulling off that piece of fabric would free up his entire upper half, including them man's face, but at the moment Itachi's mind was solely focussed on the way his chest would ripple with the movement of those strong arms lifted above his head, the tension of tendons and the smooth movement of his shoulders. Itachi was already familiar with those arms, lightly dusted with fine hair and glistening with sweat from the humidity outside, a moment so long ago it seemed that had been burnt into his brain. Itachi knew how it would feel as those arms lowered back down after the tank had been dropped onto the floor, falling with a comforting weight around Itachi's shoulders. He knew what it would feel like when those fingers buried in Itachi's hair, pale digits that were normally hidden behind fingerless black gloves cradling the back of Itachi's head.

And Itachi knew what it would feel like to bring that face down to him, that blurry face that Itachi was unfamiliar with visually but oh-so familiar with on a whole different level, finally bringing their lips together. Without the fabric of the mask in the way, Itachi would feel the slide of skin against skin, the inhale of breath against his lips, the feeling of Crow responding to it so gently and caressingly and  _perfectly_ —

Itachi's orgasm caught him off-guard due to the suddenness and power of it, knocking the breath out of him, as the inferno between his thighs reached a crescendo. He bit back the shout that threatened to force its way out of his throat, a low gasp nearly lost in the fall of water around him, and rode it out, his ears ringing and his heart pounding. Eyes clenched shut and breathing erratically, Itachi simply let it roll through him, his body alternating between the tension of each pulse and the shuddering of the aftermath, a whirlwind of reaction that was making him feel a bit dizzy and light-headed.

The descent was slow and he allowed his naked form to shakily slide down to the floor of the shower, not at all confident in his ability to stay upright. He still felt surprisingly wired, coiled tight like a spring despite the release, but his body was starting to relax and cool down regardless. He tried to focus on the feel of the cool porcelain against his legs and arse in contrast to the warm, sleep-inducing water that fell around him, but that just reminded Itachi of porcelain masks and he didn't even want to  _chance_  thinking about the ANBU captain so soon.

It took him a long moment, his thoughts carefully blank and his thighs and abdomen still tingling in the wake of his orgasm, but he lazily began checking himself, not willing to get out of the shower without checking to make sure that he hadn't left a mess. Usually he was more in control over this particular activity and prepared accordingly as to not have any mess whatsoever, but Itachi had been a bit distracted to be honest. He hadn't been that utterly taken over before, using masturbation as a means to an end, and he fully blamed it on Crow. The man was completely consuming Itachi whether the ex-heir wanted it or not, and maybe Itachi should've been more concerned about that.

Strangely he wasn't, and he didn't figure that would change any time soon. If given the opportunity to explore Crow's body, intimately or otherwise, Itachi would not hesitate for a single second. He wouldn't  _dare_.

Itachi was satisfied to not find any real evidence of his actions to clean up, so he reached up lethargically and shut off the water. It ceased immediately, which caused Itachi to shiver at the sudden temperature change, but he continued to sit there, dripping and cold and still trying to still his pounding heart.

God he couldn't believe that he had just done that (and to a fantasy that was so tame – wasn't it normal to go into in depth fantasies that were incredibly lewd?) despite so many weeks of keeping himself in check. He had  _never_  touched himself at the thought of another person, be it an acquaintance or celebrity or some attractive stranger. To be honest, he had never really touched himself for anything other than a stress relief in his life, so unlike most boys his age he wasn't rather frantic about it either, and he could count on both hands how many times he had...well, he really wasn't like other boys. It  _was_  surprising that he had reacted the way that he had though, because he had always had self-control over his body and this time he had simply snapped. He should've been able to wait it out but he had instead jumped into it head first without any trepidation.

He almost felt like he had done something wrong, but he still didn't regret doing it. He didn't know how he could. His body had responded naturally, and that wasn't his fault. He hadn't hurt anyone or himself, and even though some people thought that it was wrong for men to think of men during intimate acts, Itachi couldn't help it. It was just who he was, and there wasn't anything wrong with Itachi for that.

He doubted Crow would look down on Itachi for it either. Hell, it was the captain's fault that Itachi was so damn worked up in the first place, not that Itachi was complaining really.

Itachi forced himself up, his body heavy and covered in goose-flesh, and made his way out of the shower, shakily towelling himself dry as quickly as he could manage. He didn't bother putting on his glasses or brushing his hair, too exhausted with the thoughts running through his head and the self-induced pleasure that had quite literally taken him by surprise, and instead fell into his bed, curling up in his blanket and sheets in the foetal position, shivering almost violently. He was  _freezing_ , and only his breathing in his cocoon felt warm at all.

Right before he fell into a light sleep, he murmured quietly to himself, "Don't forget to paint over the crow, before everyone in the house sees it."

* * *

Itachi was more subdued when he came down for a late lunch, but still in high spirits.

Sasuke was chewing the last of his grilled fish when Itachi dragged himself in, beelining to the fridge and seemingly pulling out every single fruit and vegetable that Mikoto had bought within the last two days. The Uchiha heir watched with a bemused expression when Itachi began setting up his own lunch, cutting up at least five types of lettuce and cabbage and then finally putting together what looked like the most unappetising and improper salad in the world.

"Um, Itachi?" Sasuke finally questioned when Itachi's orange slices joined the julienne strips of white radish, carrot strips, cherry tomatoes, cucumber slices, green peppers, peeled apple slices and persimmons, and the few strawberries that had Mikoto had somehow gotten her hands on.

Itachi hummed an uncommitted response, distracted by pouring a light drip of sesame ginger dressing over the top of his fucked up salad-thing that seemed like an utter waste of fruits and vegetables. All of that crap couldn't taste appealing together, surely, and it looked absolutely terrible too. Of course, it wasn't like Sasuke was judging Itachi's artistic ability when it came to his food like most people would, because they were in the privacy of their own home and Itachi probably hadn't eaten in ages, but still. It looked horrendous.

To make it even more confusing, Itachi picked up his chopsticks and began eating the fruit pieces individually, in the reverse order he had prepared the salad in, all covered with salad dressing to tarnish the crisp flavour of the fresh fruit.

Sasuke fought the urge to blanch and asked, "What in the fuck are you eating?"

"Language," Itachi admonished after he had swallowed an orange slice. He then cleared his throat, brushed his long hair currently free from a ponytail behind his ear with his fingers, and then answered, "I am eating a salad. Isn't that obvious?"

Sasuke rolled his eyes and decided that was his cue to clean up his own mess. He stood up and began clearing away his dishes, rinsing them in the sink to clear away any crumbs of food or sauce left before putting them into the dishwasher to be sanitised. As he completed his task, something that he actually quite liked doing to be honest, he replied, "No, you threw a bunch of shit into a bowl, but whatever floats your fancy Itachi."

"I didn't feel like dirtying too many dishes," Itachi said, almost lazily, his eyes glazed as he stared at the lines in a new orange slice securely held in his chopsticks. He seemed quite distracted, as if his mind was a million miles away, but at least he was attempting to make conversation. Perhaps he was distracted by the fact that he had been able to paint for the first time in ages, because it hadn't been the first time Itachi had abandoned all else for his returning creation.

"Well you're the one putting it in your mouth, so more power to you," Sasuke answered with a shrug, drying his hands and digging in his pocket for his cellular. It was only a few days until Christmas and he needed to actually get the last of his shopping done before the Christmas Eve rush. Glancing over at Itachi once and then quickly averting his eyes back to his phone to check the time – a little after nine in the morning – when a cherry tomato covered in ginger dressing disappeared into Itachi's mouth, he asked, "I'm going to head to a few shops downtown for some last-minute Christmas shopping. You wanna join or are you going to go on your own without Father's permission?"

Itachi straightened at that and swallowed his bite quickly, his brown eyes sharp. Sasuke felt a brief stab of unease, belatedly realising that he probably shouldn't have given Itachi the idea of trying to escape out of the house by himself, before he remembered that it wasn't going to be an issue. Sasuke and Itachi always went shopping together for the holidays, like it was some sort of tradition or something, and Itachi was probably just incredibly excited to get out of the damn house for the first time in ages. Sasuke didn't blame him, because  _he_  likely would've tried sneaking out within the first two weeks of isolation just to be contrary and Itachi was just the same. He was surprised that Itachi had suffered through his isolation for as long as he had to be honest, since Sasuke had been sure that Itachi would've made a run for it as soon as he felt strong enough to do so. Being locked up in the house and eventually restricted to running on the trail outside wasn't enough for anyone, especially Itachi.

Sasuke felt a bit irritable at the internal thought that maybe Itachi would've had that fucking captain as a tail if he had sneaked out. Sasuke definitely didn't want  _that_  to be the case.

"Of course," Itachi replied, his voice even but his eyes dancing with excitement. "As soon as I finish eating, I'll clean up and then we can leave."

"We'll have to get an entourage," Sasuke said grumpily. Sasuke was pretty sure that the captain was on the night shift on a permanent basis, but things like that changed frequently and Sasuke still kept an eye out for that mask in the hallways, just in case. Of course, Sasuke trusted Itachi, but the captain and his ANBU spooks were another matter entirely, and therefore Sasuke was constantly on his guard.

It really was a win-lose situation. On one had, they were keeping the Uchiha family safe, and would make sure that nothing like what happened to Itachi those eight weeks ago happened again. But on the other hand, they were seriously messing with Itachi's head, and Sasuke hated it with ever fibre of his being. He was torn between nodding to them in the hallways, ignoring them on principle, and screaming at the heavens to curse the gods.

"He's on night shift," Itachi said absently, as if reading Sasuke's thoughts.

"It could've changed, you don't know," Sasuke rebutted with a huff, but didn't argue any further, leaving the room before Itachi could shoot him a disapproving look or say anything in return.

He headed upstairs to his living quarters to get ready, taking his time even though he knew Itachi would be rushing, and lingering in the warm water of his shower. He took the time to dry his hair and style it, instead of being lazy and just letting his short hair air-dry in the time it would take him to get dressed and ready. He threw on a pair of jean trousers and a dark grey sweater, grabbing his coat and shoes to take downstairs. Not for the first time, he was incredibly thankful that they had moved to Konoha instead of Kumo or staying in Iwa, because the winters in Konoha were mild in comparison to those bitterly cold and wet ones up north.

When he walked out of his room, preparing to go find an ANBU on duty so he could put together a two-man guard, he nearly ran into his brother, already flanked by two black-cloaked ANBU operatives.

Well, that solved  _that_  hassle.

His mind immediately wanted to go barrelling down a hole consisting of ' _Why is Itachi so comfortable seeking these people out himself all the sudden_ ' he forced himself to just smile a bit forcibly and nod in the direction of the two spooks. He needed to trust Itachi, and he couldn't do that unless he gave his brother some wiggle room to do...whatever in the hell he was doing. For all Sasuke knew, Itachi was anxious enough to get out of the house that he had willingly sought out the ANBU himself (though Sasuke seriously fucking doubted it).

Sasuke  _really_  wished he was a mind reader.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here," Sasuke said, opting to not grumble about it too much. He was actually rather interested to see how the spooks were going to do their spying in the calamity of the downtown shopping centre, considering that the mall was sure to be crammed with Christmas shoppers. Maybe they would cheat and just chill with the guards in the security room, watching them from the CCTV monitors all creepy-like, leaving all of the mundane guarding to the actual security that was already present in the mall. After all, it was highly unlikely that anyone would jump them in a crowded shopping centre, so normal security would likely suffice.

Who knew though? Maybe they would just stay at their shoulders the entire time like stalkers, freaking out everyone in the general vicinity.

They made their way downstairs with their shadows, bundling up and putting on their shoes before heading to the attached garage. Sasuke beelined to his Audi, knowing that Itachi would prefer not to drive, and drove out as soon as he buckled up even before Itachi had fully settled in. In a way, he was kind of wondering if he could shake off their tail, but even when they made their way out of the circular driveway and had seemingly lost the spooks, the unmarked black car inevitably caught up to them before they had even made it to the estate closest to the Uchiha's.

The ride to the downtown mall was quiet. Predictably, Itachi opted to ignore the radio and yet didn't fill the silence with mindless chatter, but as Sasuke wasn't exactly in the mood to talk either, they didn't speak to each other the entire ride. Sasuke didn't mind whatsoever, since the silence wasn't uncomfortable by any means and he was simply enjoying the ride.

He was a bit distracted anyway, more focussed on what exactly he was going to get during his shopping excursion. He already had his family taken care of, as well as a few of his extended family members that he actually gave two shits about and some friends from back in Iwa (which had already been mailed), so his bigger concern was something for his friends that he had made here – namely Naruto, Shikamaru, Hinata, Shino, Chōji, Kiba, Tenten, and oddly enough Lee.

He had already come to the agreement with Sakura that they wouldn't do anything crazy and would tap it off at a budget, probably since he had a credit card with no limit and she didn't, so it took a bit of the pressure off. Sakura wasn't particularly hard to shop for either, since she didn't really care for surprises or gifts in the first place, and he had already had a general idea of what he had wanted to look for. Most girls would've been all about jewellery or handbags or day passes at spa resorts or something, but Sakura wasn't like most girls. She also had no need for things like games or skating equipment since she had what tech or decks she wanted, so the usual suspects were out considering her hobbies.

He had already arranged her present in the end. She had a bizarre fascination with medical studies and had already started her early applications into medical school, so he had gotten her an array of medical books that were newer editions of the ones she constantly checked out from the library. However, instead of the limited selection of the series that they had in Konoha's library, Sasuke had purchased the entire set and the most current versions they had published.

The books themselves had taken up his budget, but he had broken the rules by getting her a gag gift of lime green brass knuckles for shits-and-giggles, if only because she would get a good laugh out of it. The brass knuckles were small enough that he could initially pass it off as jewellery and trick her into thinking that he had completely ignored her desire to stay on a budget, and he would laugh his head off when she unwrapped it and found what was inside the jewellery box.

He was a bit nervous about the medical books though, because it  _was_  kind of a weird gift to give a girlfriend, but she was always so passionate about her dreams of becoming a doctor. She was always checking out the same books from the library, though the ones in said library were almost seven years out of date, and often-times she couldn't check them out because local medical students beat her to it. Furthermore she always told him that she didn't need anything frivolous, and that she was happy with the things that she had, but she was always talking about her desire to help people by becoming a medical professional. He couldn't really think of anything else that she could possibly like any more than top-notch medical books that weren't boring and were actually useful, and she was always checking out the outdated versions in the library anyway.

He really hoped she didn't hate his gift or take them the wrong way.

Sasuke navigated through the busy traffic until he got to the parking garage, begrudgingly pleased to note that the ANBU tail hadn't lost them since Itachi had been attacked in a similar parking garage, though not the same one and at two separate times of day. Deciding to ignore the presence of their shadows, Sasuke hopped out of the vehicle and shivered slightly in the crisp air of the garage, waiting for Itachi to hurry up and head out with him.

By the time Itachi unfolded himself from Sasuke's Audi, the Uchiha heir was feeling incredibly impatient, tapping his foot restlessly with one eye on the black-cloaked spooks standing still close by. Itachi gave Sasuke a quick nod and then both of them began making their way towards the stairs (not the fucking lifts, the evil things) that would take them to ground level.

Strangely enough, the ANBU shadows stuck to their sides rather closely, and when they made their way to the stairs, an adult couple came out of the lifts. Immediately the couple went white and then bowed respectfully, their wide eyes trained on the operatives behind Sasuke and Itachi. Sasuke rolled his eyes when they passed the pair, praying to everything that was holy that the freaks disappeared before they scared every single shopper in a five kilometre vicinity.

When they had made it down the stairs and to the doors of the mall itself, Sasuke heard a huff of something akin to laughter from his side, and Sasuke glanced over at the source of the noise. Itachi had a small smile on his face, and Sasuke frowned slightly. "What's so funny?" he asked, and then frowned heavily when he noticed that the ANBU were both gone to who knew where. Confused and incredibly suspicious, he looked back to his smiling brother and asked almost generally, "Where in the fuck did the spooks go?"

"Language," chastened Itachi as usual before he continued, "and they probably went to the security office, which is just around the corner. Can you imagine what it would be like in this place with two operatives tailing us? It's the holidays...it would be highly stupid of them, though it would likely help with the long lines and waits at checkout."

Sasuke couldn't help but snicker.

* * *

Itachi didn't really have anyone to shop for but he did purchase a few things.

He bought a little crystal bauble for his mother even though her presents had already been purchased on-line, mostly because it was beautiful and she loved butterflies. He also purchased a gift for Sakura that Sasuke immediately got a kick out of as well as a couple of things for himself when they visited some mutually liked stores. He got quite a few pairs of simple sweats and shirts to paint and draw in, as well as a new pair of track trainers with Christmas tree spikes instead of pins. He usually didn't buy things for himself, opting to go with bare minimalist with his decorating and not caring for frivolous clothing or possessions, but he was due for some new painting gear and studs for his track escapades since all his current ones were wearing out beyond hope.

When they were leaving the sports store with Itachi carrying one more bag, both of them more than ready to head home, they passed by a jewellery store. Normally Itachi would completely bypass such a store, since he never purchased jewellery for himself or his family members, but his bespectacled eyes caught sight of a single piece that captured his attention.

Despite immediately feeling the urge to stop and look at it, he walked with Sasuke for a good while until he figured that it was safe to double back by himself. After all, he certainly didn't want Sasuke to see what he wanted to buy even though such a gift...well, it wouldn't be for his brother. As they passed one of those gaming stores that Sasuke always browsed in, Itachi stopped and said, "Hey, I'm going to go back for something. I'll meet you back here when I get done, is that okay?"

Sasuke frowned and asked, "You don't want me to come with you?"

His brother's curiosity was likely piqued by Itachi's intentional vagueness, especially since Itachi hadn't given him an estimated time hack and he had to know that Itachi had already bought all of Sasuke's presents, but Itachi didn't want to elaborate further. Instead, he said, "No, I'll be alright by myself, and you know I don't like your game stores anyway. I shouldn't be too long, but I'll come find you when I'm done."

Raising one eyebrow, Sasuke drawled out, " _Okay_ , I guess I can do that. Text me when you're done."

Itachi gave Sasuke a small hint of a smile and then turned away, heading back in the direction of the jeweller through the crowd of last-minute shoppers. Thankfully no one seemed to recognise him or the passers-by were too focussed on their own Christmas purchasing to pay him any mind, and he mercifully blended into the masses before finally reaching his intended destination.

He stared at the piece for a good few minutes, absolutely mesmerised in the craft of the jewellery, before an associate came to assist him. There was a flicker of recognition in the man's eyes – Toshiro according to his name-tag – but no mention was made, professionalism through and through.

"Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you with anything?"

Itachi took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and then said, "Yes, I was wondering if I could take a look at this."

The associate named Toshiro smiled and said, "Yes sir. I'll get it right out for you."

About twenty minutes later, Itachi walked back to the gaming store to find Sasuke, a thin box hidden in the bag with all of his sports clothes and his mind swirling.


	13. Breaking Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh...yeah. Sex. Anyway, enjoy the unbeta'd chapter. And sorry for the wait – canon distracted me for a bit. I needed all of the KakaIta (sorely lacking) and KakaSaku (absolutely inspiring and addicting despite my epic gayness) fanfiction to get me through Naruto Gaiden, I swear to God. Anyway, just to recap: I am a guy who has sex with guys (well, just the husband now I guess...jeez, domesticity is so crazy eh?), so please don't growl at me about 'unrealistic sex scenes'. When I get to the SasuSaku sex shit, then you guys can go all batty about possible realism issues since...well, ewwww. Haha.
> 
> Also, the Divergent soundtrack is fucking brilliant. Just thought you should know, just in case you need a kickarse soundtrack for a run or just for shits-and-giggles. Though I will say that listening to that soundtrack through the Zombies, Run! app while having a nice jog through London is one of the greatest things I've ever done. Well, besides snowboarding, travelling through Asia, and getting hitched to a guy with kids. Those things are the best things I've ever done.

Chapter Thirteen  
 _Breaking Point  
_ -  
"Let my lusts be my ruin then, since all else is a fake and a mockery."  
 _Hart Crane_

Christmas passed by in a blur, and New Years Eve slipped by in the same manner.

The Uchiha clan in entirety had the usual Christmas Eve dinner at Uchiha Madara's estate on the other side of Konohagakure. It was less of a pain in the arse than it had been in the past, mostly because Itachi and his family didn't have to travel the distance from some foreign country that year, but it was still a right annoyance. As per usual, Itachi had been ignored or looked down upon though he didn't much mind  _that_ , though his recent attention in regards to Delta had been brought up quite a bit, but Sasuke had had to deal with quite a bit of stupidity. He was the future clan head after all and had a lot of attention upon him, but he was also drilled about Sakura being an 'inappropriate partner'.

Thankfully Sakura hadn't been in attendance since she wasn't a part of the clan, but it had still been hard to listen to. Sasuke had been a right mess throughout the five-hour-long dinner and social, but had been forced to keep his mouth shut and his emotions reigned in. Fugaku had also been livid, but clan politics were clan politics and nothing could be done to change the minds of backwards old men and women. If any of them had spoken aloud, there could've been a revolt in the clan leading to a possible upheaval, and no one wanted that except Uchiha Ichigo, Shisui's father and a cut-throat bastard who would gleefully take advantage of the discord to name himself as clan head.

They had gotten through the dinner with no debilitating issues though, and had gone home exhausted to open their one Christmas Eve present and then head immediately to bed. Christmas Day had gone over loads better anyhow. They had woken up, did their normal morning routines, had breakfast, and then lazily opened their presents at around eleven or so, the same deal as always. Itachi knew that most families got up at the crack of dawn to celebrate, mostly for presents of course, but Itachi's family had always been incredibly lax about the festivities. It was a bit elitist to think about, but they didn't really need anything that they couldn't go purchase on a moment's notice – their vehicles were the one exception, since they had to keep good grades and stay out of trouble to keep them, and Itachi figured that pets would've only been acceptable under the same circumstances as well as showing the ability to care for them (but neither of them wanted a pet to take care of, so that was that) – and therefore Christmas had never been a huge deal for them.

After opening their presents and cleaning up the mess, they had began preparing to have the Harunos over for Christmas dinner, the first time Sakura's parents had ever been to the Uchiha estate. It had gone over incredibly well, especially in comparison to the clan dinner the night before, and they had all stayed awake for a long time, just sharing stories and interests.

The week had passed by quickly and then they had attended the New Year's Eve gala at the Kantei, surrounded by men in dapper suits and women in glamorous dresses, everyone gossiping and generally having a good time. Crow hadn't been present, to Itachi's disappointment, but he hadn't felt too awkward in the midst of Sasuke's friends and other teenagers around them. He had spent most of his time hovering around Sakura to be honest, as she was the only one not making a spectacle of herself since Sasuke and Naruto were bickering like usual, and had given Naruto a bewildered glare when the blond had boisterously laughed at midnight and teasingly pecked Itachi on the cheek (following his impromptu action with a similar peck on the cheek to Hinata, who had promptly went purple and fainted).

At the present, the first day of the new year, Itachi was laying spread-eagle on his bed, feeling refreshed from his late afternoon run and subsequent shower but tired nonetheless. Sasuke was still at the Kantei with a group of his friends and Sakura, his brother planning on staying the night yet again with his friends, and he had made Itachi promise to come to the Kantei later in the evening to stay over as well. This was probably because he didn't want Itachi home alone during the captain's shift, though Crow was seemingly on a vacation of sorts as Itachi hadn't seen him since the day before Christmas Eve. Fugaku and Mikoto were still recuperating in their other wing of the house, but were planning on setting out at around seven or so for their usual anniversary dinner, and therefore Itachi had grudgingly promised to make his way to the Kantei.

At least there were beautiful places in that estate that he could hole up in and draw to his heart's content. Maybe even paint, if he brought all of his equipment minus the easel.

He focussed on breathing and began a measly attempt to round up some energy to begin getting ready. Sasuke was expecting him around eight, and it took about an hour to get to the Kantei and check in with security. That left him about half an hour to muster enough energy so he could leave the house by seven – right when Crow usually came to visit too.

Itachi exhaled softly.

"Why the long sigh?" asked a quiet voice, coming somewhere from his left towards the doorway. Itachi's eyes snapped open at the familiar timbre and he sat up quickly, eyes immediately focussing through the darkness of his room, the only light being from the lamp that was on his end table as the moon was hidden by heavy clouds.

Itachi took a few seconds to just look at Crow, his body and powerful countenance as he stood in Itachi's open doorway without the standard cloak. Then, when he was certain that his voice wouldn't shake, Itachi answered, "My brother has forced me to agree to a night at the Kantei so I'm not home alone. I promised to be there by eight, though I'm not looking forward to it."

Crow shifted in the doorway, leaning his powerful and armour-clad body on the door frame in a pure masculine manner that took Itachi's breath away. "Hmm," Crow said, his voice so low that it was practically a rumble, "that sounds perfectly atrocious."

Itachi felt a small smile pop up on his lips at the sarcasm and replied, "All of his friends are two years younger than me and aren't exactly..." Itachi paused, trying to find a way to word his thoughts so they didn't sound pretentious. Eventually he finished quietly, "They're just younger than me, and have different interests."

"You can always hide yourself away and spend your time with me," Crow mentioned off-handedly, and Itachi perked up inwardly at the invitation. "I don't think that we need all operatives here to guard an empty house, just enough for security purposes, and you'll need an escort regardless. I could volunteer and I doubt there would be much fuss from the others. Hawk can handle it by himself."

Fighting the urge to grin or agree much too quickly like an over-excited puppy, Itachi asked, "The captain with the gravelly voice and the bird mask? Incredibly tall, has an aura that sets my teeth on edge?"

"That would be him, and he would be delighted in your description of him," Crow confirmed with an air of amusement.

Itachi's slight smile widened and without any hesitation he said, "Come here."

Crow didn't delay either, making his way slowly towards Itachi's side, but his voice was clearly mirthful when he asked, "So now you're the one giving orders, are you?"

Itachi didn't answer him until Crow had sat down behind Itachi on the bed and had pulled him into his arms, Itachi's back flush against Crow's chest in an easy familiarity. With the same almost shy smile on his lips, he relaxed fully against Crow and shot back, "You listened, so I might have to take advantage of it more often."

Their fingers interlaced, their hands on Itachi's thighs. Crow's thumbs caressed the sides of Itachi's with well-practised ease as he said questioned, "So what type of orders would you be asking of me, Itachi? Fetch you tea and a grapefruit from the kitchen? Holding your palette as you paint?"

Itachi's heart jumped in his throat, but he swallowed past it and responded evenly,  _boldly_ , "Oh, I was thinking about more useful and entertaining things. Rinsing out my paintbrushes so your hands are stained for days, detailing my car, counting my laps when I run and delivering my water, kissing me...standard slave things."

There was a pause, their breathing the only sound in the room, and then in that intoxicating low rumble Crow replied, "I don't mind rinsing out your paintbrushes or kissing you on order, or at all really, but I draw the line at detailing and I'm not even on duty when you are at the gym or on your personal track."

"I didn't think you'd be so adverse to manual labour," Itachi teased lightly, trying not to focus solely on the  _kissing_  bit, though it was hard to do so. They had only kissed the one time, seemingly ages ago, but just the mention of having free reign to  _order_  it, not to mention free reign to do it regardless, had immediately made his body all tingly and warm.

"Manual labour is fine – it's the  _cleaning_  part I'm not overly fond of," Crow said matter-of-factly, his thumbs ceasing their caressing movements and just letting their hands relax against one another's.

Itachi responded by squeezing lightly, and he took another few seconds to gather his emotions. Eventually he said, "I wouldn't order you to do any of that. I don't like ordering people to do things, because free will is incredibly important to me."

"I see," Crow answered, a lilt of something in his voice that Itachi couldn't quite place. "Not even the kissing? That's unfortunate, since I'm never quite sure where your head is at."

Itachi shivered and tried to breathe past the frantic fluttering of his heart. A tiny bit breathless, Itachi replied, "I wouldn't want to take away your free will in the matter, and as for where my head is at, I just want whatever you're allowed to give me." Crow tensed behind him, the action so subtle Itachi would've missed it if he hadn't been pressed so snugly against Crow's front. Almost as an afterthought, Itachi added, "Besides, you're not allowed to show your face to me unless I'm ANBU, right? It's not like I can just rip off your masks whenever I feel like it in order to take advantage of you. It would be a breach of security, and I don't want you to get in trouble."

As Itachi spoke, Crow grew even more tense behind Itachi, and the ex-heir gradually felt his own body tighten up in response. He wasn't sure if he had crossed a line or if he was being too bold, though in a way Crow had been the one to dive down the train of conversation, and he almost felt alarmed. He found himself holding his breath, praying to whatever was out there that Crow would either break the tension of the room with a playful joke that steered the conversation in a different direction or simply  _tell_  Itachi that he had crossed a line.

After what felt like a year, Crow said in a rough tone, "Well, that's easily rectified." Quickly, Crow's left hand untangled itself from Itachi's, and immediately after the lamp was switched off with a light  _click_  in the silence.

Itachi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly hypersensitive and light-headed, before his eyes opened up in the blackness once more. He turned his head to look backwards toward the alarm clock that glowed dimly in the darkness, and then he whispered, "I have to leave in fifteen minutes if I'm going to make it to the Kantei by eight."

"If I drive you in one of our vehicles, I can go over the speed limit and we'll have half an hour," Crow murmured right back, a smile clear in his voice.

Itachi exhaled shakily and then heard himself all but  _whimper_ , "That sounds like one hell of a good idea to me."

The captain's reaction was instantaneous, gently coaxing Itachi into facing Crow in the darkness. Itachi complied readily, his bespectacled eyes taking in the heavily shadowed figure before him, knees in between Crow's thighs and hands falling on Crow's bare shoulders. The captain's skin was warm to the touch and smooth, corded with muscle and tight with bone, and a shudder wracked through his body as he traced his fingers up past his bare shoulders and to the edge of the porcelain mask.

"Go on ahead," Crow breathed, and Itachi didn't need any further invitation.

He gently pulled the porcelain-esque mask off of Crow's head, ruffling Crow's silver hair with a soft sound as the thick fabric strap behind his head was removed, and set it down on the end table that was closest. Itachi paused for a second, swallowing thickly, and then removed his own glasses, causing the dull green numbers on his alarm clock to blur out past all reading and the figure before him to become an even more mysterious shape.

After setting his glasses beside Crow's mask, he brought his shaking fingers towards the warm fabric of the captain's mask. There was another encouraging murmur from Crow, though Itachi could feel a bit of tension seep back into Crow's body against his legs and fingertips, and Itachi took Crow's cue to heart, slowly edging down the second mask past Crow's nose, lips, and chin so the fabric could pool at his neck.

Itachi began exploring by touch alone, caressing Crow's face and tracing his nose and eyes. The hair of his eyebrows was fine and felt groomed, and Itachi could feel every individual eyelash against his fingertips. His lips, shaped so finely and neither full nor thin, were slightly dry like Itachi's own, and Itachi couldn't fight the grin when Crow's tongue swept over said lips and momentarily came into contact with Itachi's fingers. His skin was smooth to the touch, clearly shaven recently, and there were no bumps indicating scars or any other deformities to speak of. He could feel the dip of his cheek, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the evenness of his nose, a small lump at the bridge giving away that Crow had broken his nose at least once.

Crow sighed, clearly at ease, and Itachi reached behind Crow's head to grasp a handful of surprisingly coarse hair, bringing their faces together.

Surprisingly, they managed to align their mouths without any awkward misses or fumbling, and it was like a dam breaking open. Itachi inhaled sharply through his nose when Crow kissed him fully, his lips moulding easily with Itachi's own. His first  _real_  kiss without a mask in the way was heated but slow, Itachi quickly parting his lips with a shiver as Crow's tongue languidly stroked Itachi's. He felt Crow's hands cupping his face intently, but with a gentleness that surprised Itachi, guiding the kiss with intent.

Itachi simply let himself react. It was incredibly easy to do so, even though the tiny little voice in the back of his head worried that he was too inexperienced to be any good at it. He ignored the voice and just felt, lifting his other hand so he could wrap his arms around Crow's neck, fingers buried in the mass of hair so he could have some purchase. They broke apart to catch a breath but Crow immediately delved back for more, and Itachi didn't hesitate to respond, practically crawling on top of Crow's blurry, heavily shadowed body until they were all but fused together in the darkness.

Abruptly, Itachi was falling forwards, chasing Crow's momentum as the captain himself fell backwards, and he caught himself on his hands. For a split second, Itachi disconnected their lips to take in a sharp breath of surprise, but then he instantly dipped his head to meet Crow's lips again, a small indescribable noise creeping up his throat as the sensations multiplied. He was so sturdy below Itachi, a long line of heat and armour and  _man_ , and all Itachi knew was that he never wanted to let this man go.

* * *

Sasuke nearly spit out his mouthful of iced latte when Itachi walked in the room.

From the outside, nothing was really out of place when Sasuke's older brother walked into the room. His casual, if a bit effeminate to be entirely honest, clothes – a long fitted sweater that reached mid-thigh that was a deep charcoal and went past his arms, a pair of yoga-like black legging trousers that were just the slightest bit baggy, ankle-high boots with the laces untied, black suede gloves on his fingers, a long black coat with a matching knitted scarf, his trusty satchel across his chest on one shoulder, and a knitted charcoal beanie that sagged behind his head where his hair was tucked inside – were rather normal for Itachi and fitted him nicely, not a thread out of place or any evidence of disarray. His cheeks were a bit flushed, though with the biting cold outside it was to be expected, and his glasses weren't even askew. His body language was entirely normal too, calm and collected as usual except the slightest hint of wariness at the lump of teenagers that were all collected in the main room. He simply looked like his customary self, standoffish and a bit shy like always.

Except he  _didn't_.

Sasuke couldn't exactly explain the difference, but it all accounted for his eyes. His eyes were absolutely wild, glazed and a million miles away, noticeable even in the dark room with nothing but the lights of the television illuminating them. There was the smallest trace of fervour in those dark brown orbs, perhaps something similar to excitement and total bewilderment as well. Perhaps it was just some crazy art project that he was right in the middle of, but Sasuke didn't quite believe that either. Sasuke had seen his brother while completely crazed by inspiration, and this certainly wasn't the same thing at all. His brother looked...absolutely mental, really, and Sasuke had never seen such a frantic look in Itachi's eyes before, so he had nothing to compare it to.

Sasuke forced himself to swallow his mouthful and stood up, putting on a cautious smile and walking towards Itachi with trepidation. "Hey Itachi," he said easily, his hand starting to chill the longer he held onto his iced drink while the other hand was nice and toasty in Sakura's grip as he dragged her along with him. "You're late," he finished, letting his smile widen to let his brother know that he was just teasing.

"Only by a few minutes. I'm sure you didn't even realise it until just now," Itachi said, and Sasuke could immediately tell that something was up just by the sound of his voice. Sakura's fingers twitched in his own, and she let out something akin to a snicker under her breath. Sasuke schooled his expression so he wouldn't frown and spook his brother off, even though he  _really_  wanted to know what that was about. It was clearly in response to Itachi's weird, harried, breathless voice, even if it was clear that Itachi was trying to hide it as much as possible if Sasuke wasn't reading the bizarre flash of panic in Itachi's eyes. Clearly the odd tone had freaked Itachi out just as much as it had Sasuke.

"Uh huh," Sasuke said, drawing it out as he tried to figure out what in the hell was going on.

Luckily Sakura was a bit more on top of things than Sasuke as she broke up the strange tension by asking with a teasing grin, "Can we get you anything? Tea, coffee, water, a nice large shot of vodka?"

Itachi raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I don't drink," he said, his voice a bit more like himself but still with that edge of weirdness as he started to get a hold of himself.

"So no vodka then," Sakura said with a smile.

"No thank you," Itachi answered, still looking a bit bemused at the offer.

"Well if you change your mind you know where the kitchen is," yelled Naruto from the couch, eyes still stuck on the loud movie that was playing in the background.

Sasuke rolled his eyes and reached out to grab his brother's wrist. "C'mon," he said. "We're being forced to watch some stupid movie and it's driving me crazy." He pecked Sakura on the cheek and then dragged his brother to the kitchen, if only to get his brother a water or something while he drilled him on his strange behaviour.

Itachi allowed himself to be yanked towards the other end of the large room, and the second they crossed into the kitchen Sasuke pulled him into the corner of a breakfast bar. "What's going on?" he asked instantly, eyes darting side to side so he could look in both of Itachi's bespectacled orbs without missing a single thing.

Itachi sighed. "It's nothing," he denied evenly. Sasuke glared at his brother, definitely not buying it, and so Itachi exhaled slowly and elaborated, "Okay, so I might've just had a bit of a...moment. It's nothing to be concerned about, Sasuke."

Sasuke stared and said flatly, "A moment."

Itachi's lips twitched at the barest hint of a smile, and he repeated, "A moment, yes." There was a slight pause as Sasuke waited for his brother to continue, and so Itachi said, "I don't want to talk about it here."

Sasuke took a few seconds to continue glaring and then grumbled, shaking off the urge to push. Itachi had promised that he would be more open with Sasuke though, and he was worried that Itachi would do something later to distract him so he wouldn't have to elaborate. With absolutely no nonsense in his voice, Sasuke practically ordered, "You will tell me later."

"Of course," Itachi said after a brief moment of hesitation, and that was just as worrisome.

Sasuke huffed in annoyance and then said, "Okay, but I will make sure that you hold yourself to it. Consider this the first order of business when we get back home."

Itachi gave Sasuke a barely-there smile in response.

The two of them walked back into the main room after Sasuke had made a quick detour for a bottle of water, which was promptly thrown in Itachi's direction, and Sasuke was actually quite pleased when Itachi took a seat in a spare recliner off to the side of the room. Most of everyone was clumped in front of the television in a big pallet on the floor, and Sasuke followed suit, plopping down on the floor. He leaned back against the sofa, his head on the edge of the cushion in between Naruto's legs as Sakura cuddled up next to him.

He glanced at his brother, who had toed off his boots so he could curl into the recliner sideways like a little ball, his head resting on the arm and bespectacled eyes taking in the movie absently. Even with the minimal light coming from the kitchen and the movie itself, Sasuke could see the smile that had etched itself onto Itachi's face, and he could still see the wildness in his eyes despite the glare on his glasses.

Sasuke couldn't help but smile himself before he glanced down at his girlfriend. "Hey," he said, nudging her with his arm to get her attention over the loud explosion coming from the telly. She glanced up at him and then pushed herself up a bit, just enough to lay her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice quiet enough that only Sasuke could hear it, her breath warm against the skin of his neck.

"What were you snickering about before?" he asked, nudging his nose in her hair and kissing the top of her head, letting his arm curl around her so he could hold her hand.

"Oh nothing really," she said, entwining her fingers with his. "It's just funny to see him that way I guess."

Sasuke frowned. "What way?" he questioned curiously.

She tiled her head up so she could look up at him. Her beryl green eyes were soft and calm, and he felt something pull in his chest at the open expression of contentment in her expression. He squeezed her fingers and she reciprocated easily, a small smile on her lips.

Said small smile abruptly turned into a wicked grin, however, and she leant up further so she could whisper in his ear with an amused lilt to her tone, "Your brother has a boyfriend."

Sasuke choked on his inhale of oxygen and pretty much flailed, eyes going wide and pretty much pushing his girlfriend off him with shock. "He does  _not_ ," Sasuke said, perhaps a bit too loudly, and Naruto reached down to smack him upside the head.

"Shut up, fucktard," Naruto mumbled, not taking his eyes off the screen.

Sasuke chanced a glance at his brother, not bothering to retaliate against Naruto. Itachi was still curled up, still clearly lost in his own head and thankfully oblivious to Sasuke's outburst.

Sasuke collected himself and pulled Sakura back in, ignoring the amused expression on her face. At least she didn't look upset or offended that he had all but thrown her off him in his shock, which was definitely a plus. She quickly returned to her former position, cuddling into his side once again and letting her mouth reach to his ear. He didn't even register how sexy that was, having a gorgeous girl coiled around him with her breath tickling his ear intimately, mostly because he was still in complete denial.

"Well maybe it's not a boyfriend but he's been with  _someone_ ," she whispered into his ear. "He had the same expression you get when we've been making out, all sky-high and frazzled and shit, and he has a dumb, dreamy expression on his face even now. Plus his lips are swollen. He's been lip-lockin' with someone."

"Impossible," Sasuke denied quietly. "He would've told me if he was seeing someone." He paused and then protested as loudly as he deemed appropriate for the atmosphere, "And he doesn't have a  _dreamy_  expression on his face." Except he kind of did, but Sasuke had to stick up for his brother's masculinity (despite his effeminate clothes).

Sakura snorted and then kissed his neck, causing Sasuke's brain to short-circuit for a second until he could get himself back together. "Yes he does, but thanks for trying idiot."

Sasuke looked at his brother again. Itachi was starting to tap his fingers impatiently against his leg, his eyes finally clear for once though there was a spark of apprehension visible even from Sasuke's location. There was a tiny crease in between his brows, betraying his intense thoughts, and Sasuke wondered what he was so riled up about.

Maybe that was what Itachi's  _moment_  was about. Maybe he had met someone,  _actually_  met someone, and was now at the stage of finally  _doing_  something about it.

 _Oh gods_ , Sasuke thought, his mind already starting to whirl with possibilities.

Maybe he had been seeing someone for a while, before the attack, and hadn't wanted to go to the Kantei the night he had been attacked because he had been on a  _date_. Maybe he had been seen with a guy and when they had finally separated for the night, those terrible freaks had jumped him because of it. Maybe he had been so complacent with the near house arrest because his boyfriend had been sneaking into the estate, which would account for how tired he had looked all the time, and the irritability had stemmed from Sasuke's pushiness, the injuries themselves, and his boyfriend trying to be all doting (which Itachi hated) or not wanting to fool around or something. Oh gods what if it had been because he  _couldn't_  mess around when injured and had been...been  _sexually frustrated_? Sasuke got grumpy when he was feeling a bit testy in that regard himself, so it would totally make sense.

Sasuke gaped, eyes glazed and staring into nothing as his thoughts refused to shut up because  _what if Itachi was having sex_?

No, it couldn't be true. There was no way Itachi would've been able to hide a boyfriend for as long as he had been, not with ANBU slinking around all the time and monitoring. Then Sasuke gasped minutely. Maybe  _that_  was why the ANBU captain was always bugging him: he was letting Itachi know that his boyfriend was present in the area by some sort of code or something. Itachi was a quiet, introverted teenager and probably hadn't wanted everyone and their grandmother's to know about a boyfriend, especially with Delta being as nuts as it was at the moment. If Fugaku knew, he would be parading Itachi and his boyfriend around like models on a runway to show his support, and Itachi would obviously want the complete opposite. Not to mention that he probably didn't want to bring the whole well-known thing into it, because hell even  _Sasuke_  was wary about dating someone that was only in it for the money and glory.

So maybe he had sucked it his fear of ANBU and asked the captain to allow him entrance, with a background check of course, and they had some weird deal going on about it. ANBU might've been psychopathic murderers, but they had all surely been teenagers once. They knew what it was like. It would explain the weird camaraderie between Itachi and that captain too, because it meant that Itachi trusted the captain to keep his mouth shut about the boyfriend.

"Oh gods, my brother might be with a  _guy_  Sakura. He might be having  _sex_ ," Sasuke whined pathetically.

That was unfortunately just loud enough for only Naruto to hear, and suddenly there was a blond head in his face, upside down since Naruto was leaning over the two of them from in between his knees. "Wait, what?" Naruto asked curiously, eyebrows wiggling with mischievous interest, and mercifully he was being quiet for once. "Itachi's doing the nasty with a dude?"

" _Stop_  it," Sasuke complained, wilting into an upright version of the foetal position. He tried to ignore the snickering coming from his two closest friends so he could focus on  _not_  freaking out at the prospect of Itachi  _doing things_  with a guy. It was just so  _weird_ , because Itachi was so aloof and standoffish and never let people close, so thinking of Itachi flirting with someone (gods what was that even  _like_?) and  _kissing_  people was just...unbelievable. It was fucking unbelievable.

Was this what Itachi had felt like when Sasuke had first started talking about girls?

How had he  _functioned_? Sasuke himself felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

"That's awesome!" Naruto exclaimed under his breath, grinning madly. "Your brother totally deserves it, 'cause he's so bonkers that getting laid will surely chill him out, if you know what I'm saying."

Sasuke snapped.

Sakura moved instinctively before Sasuke twisted around and launched himself at Naruto, aiming for his throat so he could throttle the idiot. Naruto never stopped laughing, a booming cackle despite Sasuke's attempts to murder the blond-haired moron, and a small voice in the back of Sasuke's head was grateful that the ANBU personnel that were inevitably lurking in the vicinity didn't think he was  _actually_  trying to kill Naruto.

There was a bit of a commotion around him, Kiba yelling about bets or something, while Sasuke and Naruto grappled each other on the couch, eventually falling off the side so they could roll around on the floor. Naruto was still laughing boisterously even though it was a bit breathless by then due to the physical exertion both of them were putting into the grappling, and Sasuke was growling in the back of his throat like a madman.

Eventually they ran out of steam and Sasuke smacked him hard upside the head as a last parting shot, both of them panting and Naruto still sniggering through it all. With a pout that he would totally deny later, Sasuke glanced over at Itachi, who had sat up with alarm and was now looking back at him with concern, and Sasuke just shrugged, dragging himself to his knees. He scooted back to the front of the couch and sat back down with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly and thanking the gods that Sakura wasn't giving the others anything about the cause of the fight. The last thing he wanted was to bring it up in front of the whole room and embarrass his brother.

"I'm fine," he said to Itachi, trying not to sound too grumpy with both the possibility that Itachi was dating someone and the whole faux fight in itself, and the ex-heir just nodded, still looking concerned.

They all took their seats again and restarted the movie, which had been paused due to the commotion. Naruto had finally stopped laughing by the time he had taken his seat, and Sasuke leant back just like before in between Naruto's knees, Sakura curling back into his side once again.

This time he tried to focus on the movie and the girl in his arms, because there was absolutely no point in making assumptions about Itachi's sexual escapades until Itachi himself confirmed it. He would get the truth when they went back home in the morning, and there was no use freaking out about it until then.

He still couldn't stop glancing over at his brother though, and Itachi noticed it a few times since his attention was not at all on the movie. When he glanced over for the dozenth time, he caught Itachi yawning into his hand, and immediately was gently shaking Sakura awake from his side. "Hey, I'm gonna get Itachi a room, and then we'll find some place to crash ourselves okay?" he told her quietly into her hair, and she nodded sleepily, letting him get up without jostling her too much.

Familiar with the Kantei enough where he didn't need Naruto's assistance and already aware of where his and Itachi's rooms would be for the night, he silently made his way over to Itachi's armchair and knelt down beside him. "C'mon, let's get you a place to sleep or draw or whatever. Sound good?" Sasuke asked, and Itachi nodded, standing up and grasping his satchel and boots from the other side of the recliner.

They made their way out of the main room and into the dim hallways that housed foreign dignitaries or guests when they were welcomed into the Kantei. It was a pretty simple layout, and Sasuke led him to one of the rooms at the very end of the hall, where Sasuke knew was a nice window overlooking the grounds. Itachi sometimes got inspiration when looking at scenery, hence his favour with the back ends of homes, and had asked Naruto for this particular room to be Itachi's. He figured that his brother would like it – simple, nice view, and attached bathroom with a shower.

"Thank you," Itachi said, giving Sasuke another barely-there smile, and Sasuke reached out to give his brother a rather spontaneous hug.

"G'night," he told Itachi before hastily separating himself, because that wasn't really something that they usually did. In fact, Itachi looked a bit surprised, but at least he didn't question it, simply murmuring the same words in a more proper way and then entering his room.

Sasuke yawned himself and then went back to collect his girlfriend, more than ready to call it an early night to catch some sleep.

* * *

When Itachi closed the door behind him, he instantly was alert in the blackness.

It took Crow only a few seconds to move from the corner of the room – where he had been sitting in a chair at the desk, overlooking the moonlit grounds while keeping out of sight from the door – to Itachi's location by said door, taking a moment in between to close the blinds of the massive windows. It took only another second for him to rip off his masks in the dark, unfamiliar room and step into Itachi's personal space, his lean, tall body a shadowed shape in front of him.

He dropped his satchel and boots on the floor without a moment of hesitation and turned to await the shadow approaching him.

Their mouths collided with no fumbling yet again, since both of their eyes were adjusted to lack of light, and Itachi was pressed against the door, being consumed by lips and tongue and teeth without any hope of surfacing. His heart was racing frantically in his chest as his fingers buried themselves into Crow's mass of silver hair, making a soft noise in the back of his throat when Crow pushed him up the door, forcing Itachi to wrap his legs around Crow's waist to stay steady. He definitely didn't mind being pressed against Crow so deliciously though, his only thought being that it would be  _so_  much better if he could just get out of his sweater because he felt like he was burning alive.

Just as soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt glove-covered hands fall on his thighs, pushing the sweater up his legs as the hands crept towards Itachi's hips, and Itachi gave a small groan at the sensation. His head fell back against the door as Crow's lips moved from Itachi's own to his neck, his breath hot against Itachi's skin as he kissed a line to his jaw. Itachi pulled him in closer with his legs and his arms, wishing that he could simply fuse his entire body with the captain in against him because he could never get close enough to quench the heat that roared through Itachi's blood with no reason.

Itachi pulled Crow's head back up to his own and caught his lips again, whimpering softly when Crow claimed him, his tongue winding with Itachi's in a possessive, yet gentle dance. He would never be able to get enough of this, this heart-stopping fire that swelled and incinerated within him, and he had to take his own vow seriously – to never let an opportunity like this with Crow go.

" _Please_ ," Itachi whispered against Crow's lips.

Crow's breathing was heavy as he began ghosting his lips across Itachi's jaw, his mouth barely moving to ask, "What do you want?" His hands fell onto Itachi's hips, the sweater bunched up around Crow's hands and wrists, and he could feel cool fingers briefly caress the bare skin right above the waistline of his trousers. Itachi's entire body shuddered at the contact, unconsciously pushing into the touch as much as he could as his head fell back again in a breathless sigh.

"I..." His mind blanked out for a second when Crow's hands left Itachi's hips to fall solidly on Itachi's ribs underneath the sweater, the feeling of those glove-covered hands on his bare skin too intoxicating to ignore. When he had managed to take in a ragged breath, Itachi tried again, "I want...everything you can give me. Whatever you're willing to give." He could feel his face heat up, thankfully hidden in the darkness of the room, at his request, but he didn't regret the words. Despite the arousal that was most certainly pressing into Crow's lower stomach with noticeable intent and despite the frantic need Itachi couldn't quell in his body, he was sound in mind enough to know what he wanted.

He had made his decision, and it was up to Crow to make his own.

"Gods," Crow breathed, and then the hands moved from Itachi's ribs to his upper back before he was lifted up easily and taken away from the door.

Crow carried him towards the other side of the room, his fingers pressing into the skin and muscles of Itachi's shoulder blades as their mouths connected once more, so much heat and passion between them that Itachi could barely keep up. Their tongues danced together languidly before they reached their destination, and Crow gently laid him down on the bed.

The captain didn't follow though, opting instead to stand over Itachi in a dark, poignant shape, and Itachi took the moment to catch his breath. He felt crazed with desire and the brief respite gave him a second to calm himself down, because he already felt too close to the edge for comfort. Still, his body felt too overheated and his arousal was much too confined to be comfortable, so with a small twinge of nerves he lifted himself up and slowly began to take off his sweater.

He heard Crow's breath catch but Itachi didn't stop, already feeling the relief of the cool room as he pulled the sweater over his head, nearly knocking his glasses off in the process and no doubt messing up his hair as well. He tossed it to the side without care and exhaled with the comfort of bare skin, the feeling absolutely glorious considering how heated he was. His fingers combed through his mussed hair immediately after, stroking through the long strands as he waited to see what Crow would do, eyes not leaving the dark shape looming over him. He could see the silver hair even in the blackness, even the skin on his face and two dark eyes, though the lack of light was more than enough to keep him from identifying any concrete facial features. Still, he stopped fussing with his hair and removed his glasses, stretching towards the edge to place them on the end table that surely was there. His guess was correct, and when his glasses were all but forgotten he didn't bother sitting back up, simply lying back with ease and glancing up at the shadow above him, legs slightly spread and the rest of his body open.

When Itachi settled, Crow moved quickly towards him, and despite the suddenness of the action, Crow still pressed Itachi into the bed gently but with intent. Looming above him, his shadowed face only centimetres from his own, Crow said in a low, husky voice, "You are going to be the death of me, I swear by it."

The tone of his voice and the words he spoke as well as the feeling of that powerful, masculine,  _dangerous_  body above him, Itachi couldn't even stop the groan from the back of his throat, another fierce shudder ripping through his frame as his breath came out in shallow gasps. His electrified body arched in pure  _want_ , feeling completely and deliriously aroused almost to the point of no return.

But who could honestly blame Itachi for it? Itachi could feel the power beneath the captain's skin, feel the consuming gaze of Crow from above him, and being moved around like he was as light as air was like he was being dominated by a man much stronger than he but not showing any real aggression...it went straight below Itachi's waist and clouded his normally sharp mind. He  _wanted_  this, and if Crow didn't touch him soon Itachi was going to break.

Crow said something though Itachi couldn't hear it through the blood rushing in his ears, though he most definitely did feel Crow push his legs further apart and settle in between them. He propped himself up with his forearms to keep the majority of his bodyweight off of Itachi's chest but that didn't stop their hips from connecting, and the feel of another hard length against his own caused Itachi to whine lowly in the back of his throat as his hips pushed up without accord. He couldn't even help the instinctive reaction, and certainly didn't regret it when Crow hissed through his teeth and returned the favour, rolling his hips against Itachi's for more of that delicious friction.

Itachi lifted two shaky arms up to wrap around Crow's neck, burying his fingers into Crow's silver hair, bringing Crow's face down to his for a wild kiss to stop the continuous noises that wanted to rip from his throat, eyes shut and pushing into Crow's thrusts heatedly. He threaded his legs around Crow's to get more contact and stability, to connect their bodies together more permanently, loving the constant feeling of Crow against him, yet he still wanted  _more_.

Crow's body suddenly stopped, the friction still there as their hips stayed pressed together but it just wasn't enough. Itachi's eyes fluttered open, breathing heavily and utterly wrecked, and watched as Crow hesitated. His face was trained downwards where their hips were connected, and Itachi heard himself say, "You can. It's okay. I'll tell you if I'm not." He wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to, but if it was anything like what they were just doing, he would be completely okay with it. He just wanted Crow to do whatever felt right, because Itachi had no idea what was going on except in an abstract and therefore trusted Crow's judgement.

What Itachi  _did_  know was that he was on fire, and he had never felt so aroused in his life. He needed to have some sort of release, and he wanted to explore Crow's body with his fingers and tongue but was too scared to try lest he overstep a boundary. There was a lot more at stake with Crow than Itachi, and he wanted the captain to be comfortable.

That shadowed face looked up once briefly, silver hair barely glistening in the almost non-existent light coming from the window behind them, before returning to looking down, and then Crow's hips disconnected with Itachi's as he pushed himself to his knees. The ex-heir groaned with the loss, but was instantly distracted because one bare hand unsnapped the button of Itachi's trousers.

"Is this okay?" Crow asked softly from above him.

Itachi let out an exhale that seemed to come from the tips of his toes and he replied breathlessly, "Oh gods you have  _no_  idea how okay that is."

There was a deep, quiet chuckle from above him, and then the flies of Itachi's trousers was slowly pulled down. Itachi's heart began racing even faster and his breathing became choppy at best, trying to take in any oxygen that was fulfilling. As Crow began slowly pulling the trousers down Itachi's hips he said in a hoarse whisper, "Tell me if you want me to stop. Promise me that you'll tell me to stop if I cross a line or if you don't like what I'm doing to you.  _Promise_  me Itachi."

"I promise," breathed Itachi, consumed by the feeling of Crow's rough fingertips trailing down his legs as the trousers were removed, easy and slow, leaving him almost naked to Crow's mercy. One tiny little barrier left before there was nothing to hide, and he didn't feel even the slightest bit apprehensive about it. Perhaps it was because he was too far gone to be nervous or afraid about bare before Crow, or possibly because the darkness of the room shrouded the total image of his body to Crow's eyes, or maybe it was because Itachi trusted the captain beyond all rational motive. Either way, the only thought that crossed his mind was that if Crow touched him where he so ached to be touched, he was probably going to lose his mind.

The trousers were fully pushed off, and judging by the sudden coolness of his toes his socks had followed alongside them, leaving him in nothing but his undergarments. It was a relieving sensation, the coolness of the air helping to ease the inferno between his legs and cool the light sheen of perspiration that had coated his body, and Itachi sighed at the feeling, completely at ease with Crow's presence above him.

"You are beautiful," he heard Crow whisper, so quietly that Itachi almost believed he had imagined it, and then there was a hard body above him warding off the chill.

Itachi opened his eyes and immediately put his hands on Crow's waist, feeling the chilled armour against his palms. He didn't pause at all, pulling a page from Crow's book and slipping the tips of his fingers underneath the armour, caressing the lycra beneath it. It was almost frustrating how Crow was still fully clothed other than his gloves and arm guards, and Itachi said lowly, practically quivering with need, "Why am I the only one losing clothes? Is that not allowed?"

Crow's lips connected to Itachi's neck, nearly making him lose his train of thought, but Itachi was determined to feel Crow's skin against his own. He bit his lip, hoping that he wouldn't be denied, as Crow asked hotly against his throat, "Is that what you want? Are you sure?"

Without hesitation, Itachi demanded, "Take of your clothes."

There was a harsh exhale akin to a laugh against his skin and then Crow's teeth latched onto Itachi's throat, gently but with so much intent that Itachi couldn't help but cry out with pure pleasure and arch into Crow's body, needing friction and needing to be touched and just  _needing_. He just couldn't help it, and as Crow lifted himself up to his knees yet again, tearing at his armour and unbuckling it, Itachi let his own left hand slip under that last barrier to grasp his own cock, the cries ceaseless now as he began stroking, desperate for release and unashamed to be touching himself so lewdly in front of Crow. He simply  _had_  to, because it was physically painful otherwise. He  _needed_  it.

He heard Crow groan above him, and then there was a loud noise to the side of him as the armour was thrown careless away. He forced his eyes open and watched as Crow ripped off his black tank, exposing the pale expanse of his chest to Itachi's blurry, lust-filled gaze, and Itachi stopped touching himself because he  _had_  to get his hands on this man in every way possible.

Itachi sat up and reached for Crow's trousers, desperate to get them off, and he heard another groan as they both fumbled for the button and flies. Itachi didn't take his time like Crow had, opting to push them away and grasp the long line of Crow's cock through the silky briefs that he wore.

"Oh my  _God_ ," he heard Crow moan thickly, the sound going straight to Itachi's own erection, and then Crow practically threw him back down onto the bed, resting almost all of his bodyweight on Itachi as he pushed down his trousers and pants just enough to make it work. "Tell me I can, Itachi," Crow hissed from above him, his voice wrecked and oh-so deep.

Itachi didn't answer, instead reaching once again for the thick, slick hardness of Crow's cock, this time not hidden behind a barrier.

Crow let him touch for the most perfect of moments, the heavy weight of it delicious in Itachi's hand. His thumb caressed the wet slit, just like Itachi himself liked it, smearing around the liquid that smelled of musk and made Itachi's mouth water. He wanted to know what it tasted like, and he pulled his hand away so he could. It was salty, with an underlying bitterness, and pleasantly tangy, and Itachi had barely even gotten to finish memorising the taste before everything changed.

Crow whispered, "Fuck," and then Crow's cock lined up with Itachi's own as one of Crow's hands enveloped both of them in a steady pull. Itachi instantly cried out and arched into the sensation, his hands scrambling to grasp handfuls of Crow's thick hair as he tried to hold back the quickly approaching climax. He didn't want it to end so fast, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to steady himself.

It was slow at first, Crow testing Itachi out as he studied the ex-heir's reactions, but the captain was a quick study that soon had Itachi thrashing as much as he could being pressed so intimately against Crow. He consistently brought Itachi to the edge only to back off and leave him a twitching mess, every moment drawn out as if to prolong the experience as much as possible. The moans that came from Itachi were loud and ceaseless, unable to hold back as he continuously pushed into Crow's fist to further the contact. Crow leant down and whispered huskily in Itachi's ear, "You have to be quiet or the entire Kantei is going to hear you. I  _will_  silence you if I have to."

That somehow only made the heat in his body spark hotter, and he felt his entire body twitch at the idea. He let out a keening noise when Crow's hand twisted on their cocks, slick from both of their precome, and that brought a bit of awareness back to Itachi, suddenly feeling a burning need to reciprocate the mind-blowing experience to Crow. Itachi wanted  _so_  badly to touch him, feel Crow in his palm, and he wanted to taste, to taste more of Crow's flavour and feel the weight of him on his tongue. His mouth  _watered_  for it, and he reached out blindly, wrapping his fingers around Crow's hand to follow each wet stroke. "I want..." he managed to choke out before a particularly tight pull that made him forget what he wanted to say.

Crow backed off once again, just as Itachi had been convinced that his entire being was going to snap, and Itachi let out a dry sob as his head thrashed back and forth, completely at the mercy of the man above him. His spare hand forced Crow's lips against his own, their kiss wet and sloppy and filled with tongue, muffling Itachi's constant sounds and Crow's breathless groans. He had never been tormented like this before, had never denied himself so many times in one setting when he had pleasured himself, and it was literally  _agony_. Every muscle in his body was sporadically twitching, his heart racing so fast that surely it would fail, the sweat on his brow and in between their heated bodies slick and burning. He was so aroused that he was certain he was going to die, but he still didn't want it to end, the constant, sweet torture just prolonging the moment.

"What do you want?" growled Crow against Itachi's lips in the most delectable voice Itachi had ever heard, voice absolutely destroyed and rough and perfectly masculine, but Itachi couldn't answer as Crow's hand sped up under his, squeezing hard and twisting them both  _just_  right and he knew that this time he was done for. Their tongues fought again, both of them trying to smother the increasingly loud sounds ripped from their throats as Itachi was returned to the edge.

Finally, skirting on the line of no return, he forced out, " _Please_ ," and Crow bit down on Itachi's lower lip, pulling hard against them both with tight fingers once before Itachi exploded.

Itachi's entire body went taut with his climax, mouth open in a silent scream, vision going white and body convulsing in the power of his orgasm. He could feel the blistering heat of his own ejaculate, and suddenly he could feel Crow's too, hot and slick against his lower stomach and in his fingers, and it was  _so messy_  but Itachi couldn't even bring himself to care. He rode each pulse out in a shuddering delirium, short nails digging into Crow's shoulder and mouth open without sound as Crow buried his face into Itachi's sweaty neck, teeth once again latching on as he hissed against Itachi's skin.

It seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually Itachi felt his body relax in Crow's hold, both of them covered in sweat and bodily fluids and who knew what else. He couldn't bring himself to care, instantly boneless and incapable of really forming any real thought. He felt Crow disconnect their fingers and fall to the side of him, face still buried in Itachi's neck as he caught his breath against Itachi's skin.

They laid against each other for what felt like ages, both of them slowly cooling down and feeling a bit more human. Itachi pressed against the body beside him and brushed his lips against Crow's temple, completely comfortable despite the general disarray and mess that they were in. Crow's warm body to his left warded off the chill of the room now that the sweat on his body was dried, and he felt safe in that embrace. Crow's arm was a lovely weight across his chest, just above the mess on his stomach, and he could feel Crow's rough fingers just barely caressing the skin of Itachi's ribs.

Eventually Crow turned his head and their lips connected softly, an unhurried and simple kiss that somehow was more intimate than any that they had shared so far. Itachi smiled in the kiss, feeling Crow's lips curve up as well, and then Crow pulled away, pushing himself up. The captain didn't say a word, just stood up and disappeared in the darkness of the room after a brief, shuffling pause that Itachi couldn't comprehend.

Somehow Crow found the bathroom easily despite the lack of visibility, betraying the familiarity that the captain had with the property, and Itachi could hear the water run in the distance at an easy trickle for a bit. Soon after, Crow returned and unhurriedly began cleaning Itachi off, the washcloth warm against Itachi's stomach, and Itachi's eyes closed with the soothing caress.

When Crow was done, Itachi felt his body being gently tugged in Crow's direction, and the ex-heir went without fuss. They entangled their bodies, Itachi biting his lip to mask the sigh of contentment when he felt the entire long line of Crow's body against him, gloriously bare against his own.

"Do you have to leave now?" Itachi whispered against the skin of Crow's shoulder, letting his fingers trace the hard lines of Crow's defined chest.

Crow was quiet for a moment, and then he replied quietly, "The way I see it, my shift doesn't end until six, and then after that I'm on my own time for rest. I figure that I can pass this off as a detail and just...stay here, if you want me to."

Itachi grinned against the smooth shoulder. "That would be nice."

And so Crow did, and they whispered words throughout the night to each other until Itachi drifted into an easy, comfortable slumber.


	14. A Night of Scheming

Chapter Fourteen  
_A Night of Scheming  
-  
_"What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it."  
_Salvador Dalí_

It was an easy thing, waking up in a man's arms, much easier than Itachi had imagined.

The ascent into awareness was slow, brought about by a deep sleep, but the first thing that Itachi became aware of was Crow's arms cocooning him in a warm embrace. Crow's arm was sturdy around Itachi's bare stomach, his sculpted chest pressed intimately against Itachi's back and the even breathing in his hair a soothing sensation. Itachi felt himself smile at the comfort of it, secure in the warmth of Crow's arms and the sheets wrapped around them.

It was surprising to say the least, that the captain had stayed through the night and to the first light of dawn. He could see the weak light of early morning invading through the cracks of the blinds, illuminating the entire room in a grey abstract. For the first time he could see the entirety of the room – the queen-sized bed in the centre against the wall, a writing desk in the corner, a television mounted on the wall, a dresser with a vase of flowers on top, generic paintings and other knick-knacks decorating the space, all in whites and browns – but he wasn't curious in the elegant but altogether uninteresting area he had slept and ultimately lost his virginity in.

He knew that Crow was still bare behind him, could feel every line and angle of him without the barrier of cloth between them. He knew that if he turned around in Crow's embrace he would be able to drink in the sight of his face without a mask, handsome with the experienced touch of Itachi's fingers but visually unknown.

Despite the urge, he didn't do it. He quelled the impulse and pressed back into Crow's chest more snugly, content in the moment. Maybe Crow would make their current arrangement a habit, but Itachi was going to operate under the possibly-correct assumption that it was a one-time thing and take advantage of the time he had. There was nothing else he really could do otherwise, and for now he was okay with that.

"Hmm, are you awake?" he heard Crow hum quietly from behind him, his voice slightly rough with either sleep or exhaustion. Itachi wasn't sure if the captain had slept or not, opting to stay awake just in case Itachi himself had woken up or if he was simply on a night schedule with his late patrols, but the ex-heir still felt himself frown. If Crow had stayed awake, then Itachi had missed out on an opportunity to just talk and relish in Crow's presence only because of something as mundane as sleep.

"Yes," Itachi murmured back.

Crow's hold on him tightened and Itachi entwined their fingers together on his own stomach, loving the feel of those coarse fingertips on his hand and the light dusting of hair that felt silky to the touch. As they pressed closer to one another, Crow said, "You could sleep longer. I'm not going anywhere."

Warmth bloomed in Itachi's chest at the simple but honest words, and his smile returned, thankfully hidden from Crow's eyes. In reply, Itachi said softly, "I've slept enough. Did you?"

There was a beat of comfortable silence and then Crow said, "A few winks, I'll admit. Most of the night was spent doing more important things though, and I'm accustomed to the nocturnal schedule that I've been on for the past few months."

"Important things?" Itachi questioned cautiously, wondering if Crow would elaborate.

There was a low exhale of laughter in his hair, the ebony strands moving slightly with Crow's breath, and then Crow answered, "Indeed. I've been scheming."

"Scheming?" Itachi asked with amusement.

"Oh yes," Crow said with a teasing lilt to his tone. His rough fingertips began stroking the skin of Itachi's stomach, causing gooseflesh to pop up on Itachi's body, and Itachi had to consciously make an effort to keep his breathing normal. "I've been thinking about the future," Crow went on, his voice suddenly even as if he was lost in his own head. "I think it's selfish, but I don't want this to end."

Itachi was quiet for a long moment, and then he admitted, "I don't either."

"Well it will, when you decline the invitation," Crow stated matter-of-factly, and Itachi twitched at the calmly spoken words. It was true that he was still planning on declining, even after their intimate encounter just hours previously, but he hadn't been too outwardly expressive of his decision. It made it feel like there was a deadline on their interactions, and Itachi didn't even want to think about that until he absolutely had to.

Crow went on, "So I've been scheming to find a way around that. A few good possibilities come to mind, and one foolproof one, but it's not causing an international incident that is the more pressing concern. And, of course, it's the future itself that is a problem too."

Itachi processed that and then asked, "What do you mean?"

Crow sighed, pressed a kiss against Itachi's hair, and then explained in a sombre whisper, "I'm never going to have a civilian life, and you're never going to be an ANBU. We're never going to have what other people have. Even if we are allowed to continue, I'm never going to be able to take you out to dinner, or let you meet my friends, or hold your hand at a public gathering, or pick out a cosy flat on a beach somewhere that we both fall in love with. It's not fair to you, because you deserve that and I can't give it to you."

Once again, Itachi was glad that Crow couldn't see his face because he knew that his expression was just as tortured as his emotions. Itachi had never thought about those things before, not really, and while he hadn't actively wanted them before...he suddenly wished that he _could_ have them, or at least the _option_ to have it, and with the man behind him a presence throughout it all. It was such a devastating thing, abruptly having someone like Crow in his life but not being able to _actually_ have him. There was no way to know for certain if they were compatible in the long-term, or if they would've actually been able to have a real relationship had the circumstances been in any way different, but the fact that he couldn't even attempt to have those things with Crow was almost heartbreaking in a way. They didn't even have a chance to _try_.

But at the same time, Itachi had never been normal. He didn't need a boyfriend or a husband, didn't even want that in fact – he wanted a _partner_ , in life and in heart. He didn't need to live with a man or be taken out on dates or have social gatherings with all of their friends to have that, not at all. Itachi liked being alone anyway, and if the two of them did attempt to make a future with their extreme conditions, they wouldn't be in each other's personal spaces all the time. It would be hard, and incredibly bizarre, but it was _possible_.

And if they _did_ have a compatibility for a long-term relationship, then wasn't that worth it? If they had the _opportunity_ to fall in love with each other, instead of dancing around the long-term commitment like they were doing now, wasn't it worth the sacrifice?

"What if I didn't care about stereotypical expressions of domesticity?" Itachi asked.

Crow sighed again and said, "Then it would just be the whole international incident thing."

"Why would it be an international incident?" Itachi pressed.

Crow answered quietly, "That's better shown than explained." Itachi frowned, but before he had the thought to vocalise his confusion, Crow stated, "If you turn around and looked at me, there would be a lot of pissed off people not only in the organisation but also in the upper branches of the political ladder. The Emperor, may he live forever, would know about it, and the Elders as well as the ANBU superiors would quickly follow. Even Minato-sama would be briefed on it. There would be utter pandemonium while they tried to figure out how to deal with the situation."

Crow paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and then said lowly, "The Elders would demand that you be permanently silenced." Itachi's heart clenched painfully at the confession. "Minato-sama would call for a confidentiality agreement with strict guidelines but ultimately a plan for us to live a somewhat normal life together." That sounded much better, and Itachi felt his appreciation and respect for Naruto's father increase exponentially.

"As for the Emperor, may he live forever, considering how he allowed this to continue, even after I told him that you would never accept the invitation, I would like to hope that he wouldn't make an example of us and would side with Minato-sama. I have...an unfair advantage with him, being as high-up in the ranks as I am among other things, but he still has to keep the ANBU in check and within strict guidelines to assure efficiency and compliance. Then again, everyone in the ranks know of my affection towards you and would most likely back it themselves. I can't definitively know how he would react, but I have faith that it would be in wholeheartedly in our favour. That's why it's my foolproof plan."

Itachi licked his dry lips. "So all I would have to do is look at your face?" It seemed like such an unremarkable thing, but it was so far beyond the opposite of that that Itachi couldn't even process it properly.

"Yes," Crow agreed, his voice deep and thrilling again. "But it's not something to take lightly either. If you do decide to look, I won't stop you, but you have to make sure it's what you really want. You won't be able to take it back and you will be held accountable for your actions, whatever those consequences might be."

Itachi blinked in the dim light of the room, blurry eyes staring in the direction of the desk in the corner, and then he asked softly, "What do you want?"

Crow huffed out a sardonic laugh. "I'm not answering that question. I don't want to influence your decision."

Itachi frowned once again. "You're just as much a part of this as I am," Itachi argued, unamused and even the slightest bit irritated. "It's not just my life on the line here – it's your job and the respect that you receive from your subordinates and superiors, and it could be your life too. I told you once before that I'm not one for taking away someone's free will, and I'm not about to start taking advantage now. Your opinion is important when it comes to this, and I'm weighing it equally with my own."

Crow was quiet for a long time after that. His fingers stopped stroking Itachi's stomach as the captain pondered silently behind him, and Itachi let his own fingers move instead. He traced the veins in Crow's arms, feeling the silky hair and the muscles underneath, relishing the warmth of Crow's skin.

As Crow was quiet behind him, Itachi let his mind wander, vaguely wondering what time it was. His brother was a late sleeper, but he wasn't sure about any of his other friends staying at the Kantei. There was no way to know for sure when and if Sasuke would be woken up without his permission (and probably Sakura with him, and while he didn't approve of his brother spending the night with a girl because of incredibly important _reasons_ , it was also a bit hypocritical if he threw a tantrum about it considering how Itachi himself had spent his own night). Itachi doubted there would be anyone banging on his door until Sasuke dragged himself out of bed, but the ex-heir didn't want his time with Crow to be cut short. The second Sasuke came and knocked, he would be forced to part with the captain until at the least the evening, and he hoped in the back of his mind that Sasuke would leave him alone for a few more hours at the least.

They were in the middle of a terribly important conversation anyway, and Itachi desperately wanted to finish it – or at least come to some sort of agreement in the meantime so they could finish it later.

Crow suddenly spoke up, tearing Itachi from his thoughts: "It's selfish of me to want it, but I do. I've never had this opportunity before and I'll probably never have it again. I've never wanted anything like this before, never wanted to be tied down or really involved with someone, but I want to try. I want everything I can with you." Itachi felt Crow take a deep breath against his hair, and then he continued softly, "But I also want you to make an educated decision based off of your long-term aspirations and expectations. I don't want you to...settle for me just because I'm the first person you've felt a connection to, regardless of what connection that may be. There are millions, billions of people out there in the world, and they will be better for you in the long run. There won't be any secrets with them, no hiding in dark corners or complete isolation in those types of relationships, and there are men out there that are better than me. Men that can give you everything I can but more, so much more, and in a more fulfilling way and in ways that you deserve."

Crow hesitated behind him, tensing briefly, and then he continued calmly, "If we do this, it might not last. You might get bored of me, disillusioned by my personality which has been largely kept from you for security's sake, or tired of the life we can manage to make work. You might meet someone out there that you care for more so than me. So anything that we try from here on out is not a binding contract in any way – that's what confidentiality agreements are for. If you decide in the future that I'm not what you want or that the sacrifice is too great, we aren't going to silence you for it. You're human and young, so you are always allowed to change your mind in the future. You don't have to fear that, at least."

He went quiet, giving Itachi a moment to think silently about his own feelings on the subject as well as Crow's heartfelt words.

To be honest, Itachi felt like his mind was already made up, and the latter part of Crow's speech had only cemented that fact. It also made Itachi one hundred percent confident in Crow's sincerity to their...relationship of sorts as well, when before he had always wondered if perhaps Crow was playing him for a fool just to get Itachi into ANBU. Every word spoken by Crow had rang with truth, and the consequences of both their actions – if the Emperor didn't approve, though Crow was assured that he would – would affect them both.

There was no way of knowing if they would be able to really be what Itachi (or possibly even Crow) wanted in the long run, no way of predicting whether or not they really could withstand the insanity that such a relationship would bring, but it was worth a shot. Perhaps Crow was right in saying that Itachi was jumping the gun because it was his first real connection with another person, but that didn't mean that it wasn't a _justified_ jump. Itachi was young but he wasn't naïve, and he knew what he could be getting himself into if he just turned his head and looked at Crow's open face without a mask in the way.

Besides, as long as the Emperor, the Elders, and Minato didn't threaten the life of his brother, Itachi figured that he was grudgingly okay with whatever they threw at him. Sure, he didn't particularly _want_ to die, but he also trusted Crow and if push came to shove, he could always join ANBU if that was price. His stomach curdled at the thought, but at least he would be protecting both Sasuke and his country in the shadows...and possibly Crow, to be honest, if they decided to go _that_ route. He would always choose to sacrifice his own comfort and mental stability if it meant protecting the people he loved and cared about.

Still, Crow had sounded incredibly confident when he had claimed that the Emperor would be on their side. Itachi had faith in that at least, because somehow he got the impression that Crow was a bit more influential than he had let on. Perhaps he was a senior leader instead of just a captain or something, or had some juicy blackmail that the government couldn't allow to see the light of day. Considering Crow's profession, Itachi wouldn't have been surprised.

If they didn't work out in the long term, there were options. Confidentiality agreements aside, he could always join ANBU if they deemed him untrustworthy of holding onto the secret. Hell, he could always kill himself too if it meant protecting his family, though he wasn't fond of _that_ either since it would likely crush Sasuke. Perhaps in the end he really _was_ signing his own death warrant, having already made up his mind that he really _was_ going to look.

Itachi sighed. He wished that he could just swear Crow to secrecy, but he doubted that the captain would be open to that. Itachi barely knew the man honestly, even though he really did at the same time, but he _definitely_ knew that Crow was the most blindingly loyal human being in regards to the Emperor and Fire Country that Itachi had ever met in his life. Maybe Itachi just didn't understand the workings of the country (and quite possibly the world) like Crow did, but it still seemed a bit unsighted to him. There was no way that one could see that atrocities that Crow likely witnessed and took part in without feeling a bit bittersweet about the governing powers at large. No country was perfect.

Then again, Itachi had unwavering loyalty to Sasuke, who was just as human as politicians and therefore was just as likely to make dumb mistakes.

To each his own in the end, he supposed.

Itachi shut his eyes tightly and held his breath before he began turning in Crow's warm hold. The captain allowed him, no evidence of any tenseness in his limbs, and Itachi felt more than heard the deep rumble of laughter in his chest. "Is this your answer?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his even tone after they had gotten into a mutually comfortable position.

Itachi inhaled the scent of Crow's bare skin, nuzzling his nose into the hollow of the captain's throat, and then said against Crow's skin, "No, I'm going to look. I'm just memorising this moment before everything in our lives goes mad."

"It will be rather chaotic I suspect," Crow replied with almost an imperceptible waver to his voice. Itachi wondered if it was nerves, which would've been understandable since Itachi felt like his stomach and chest was very nearly vibrating with nerves himself.

"Who will you inform first?" Itachi asked, genuinely curious.

"Hmm, naturally it will be the Emperor, may he live forever," Crow answered in a quiet mumble against Itachi's hair. "He's the least likely to jump to conclusions, and he's the most open-minded out of all my superiors. As soon as I leave here, I will report to him."

Itachi was quiet for a long moment, quelling his nerves as much as he could as he processed, before he questioned softly, "When do you have to leave?"

Crow sighed. "Ideally, I should've left about an hour ago, since that's when my shift ended." Itachi's heart skipped a beat, now wondering if _ANBU_ would be barging into his room instead of Sasuke, but then his fears were squashed effectively when Crow continued, "However, my unit has already been informed that we are to be left alone until further notice, so I figure I have at most two hours before they start getting antsy. It's more likely that your brother will interrupt us before my comrades do."

Itachi hummed in both agreement and relief. "I am usually awake by this time anyway," he admitted, taking a deep breath against Crow's skin.

Crow buried his nose further into Itachi's hair and said, "Nevertheless, I will see you later tonight if I'm not held up by political necessity. It is a genuine possibility, so don't worry if I don't approach you until the day after, or perhaps even later in the week. There's a chance that you'll be summoned as well, so keep that in mind, but I promise I will be there with you every step of the way no matter who tells me otherwise."

Itachi pulled away, touched by Crow's confident words, and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that Crow was smiling, his teeth clean and glistening in the dusky room, and it was beautiful to see for the first time. The second thing he noticed was that he _was_ handsome, not exactly overly so but definitely enough to turn more than a few heads. His features were incredibly even, well put together and decidedly aristocratic in its appearance, and the silver hair falling into his dark grey eyes made him look almost devilishly alluring.

The first thing he _realised_ , however, after a few moments of just _staring_ at him, was perfectly summarised by the words that flatly droned out of his mouth without accord: "I definitely see what you mean by 'unfair advantage' when it comes to the Emperor."

Crow's smile widened – was it even appropriate to call him _Kakashi_ , considering that by all intents and purposes, Hatake Kakashi had died when Itachi had been only ten – and he said teasingly, "Yes, I suppose it's cheating, considering he's my father and all, but I'm all about taking advantage of my lineage to get what I want."

Itachi choked out a laugh against his will before quickly getting a hold of himself. When he felt like he wasn't going to break out into a more hysterical laughter, he said with a ring of disbelief, "I just slept with the Crown Prince of Konoha. This has effectively been the strangest twenty-four hours of my life."

Crow – Kakashi, his name was _Kakashi_ – rolled his charcoal grey eyes, so very similar to the Emperor's, eyes that had been photographed beyond all comprehension by the tabloids when he had been 'alive'. "Technically that's not true since I'm legally dead, but I understand your point. Still, I'm always going to be Crow, and I'd prefer if you didn't call me Kakashi. That man died a long time ago and he's not coming back."

Itachi nodded once and then pressed a small kiss to the bare skin of Crow's jaw. Then he paused and smiled, pulling away and glancing at those dark eyes. "I was young when you died, but I distinctly remember your reputation. The press brings it up occasionally even now, when one of the clan darlings gets a bit too rowdy."

Crow rolled his eyes again, drooping a bit in mock embarrassment before a roguish grin popped up on his lips. Itachi's breath caught, heart skipping a beat (because dear _God_ he was attractive) before Crow said in a bit of a drawl, "Yeah, yeah, I was a bit of a problem child. I was a teenager, so I'm allowed liberties."

Itachi felt his lips curve into an amused smirk. "You made your way through every clan heir and heiress as well as branch members within a three-year period. I think that's a bit more excessive than 'liberties', Crow."

Crow laughed. "If it's any consolation, I don't have any little mini-mes running around. I was incredibly careful and Father would've killed me with a blunt spoon if I had gotten anyone pregnant." He paused, then added on nonchalantly, "Oh, and I'm clean."

Itachi felt his cheeks go a bit hot at the absent addition, feeling a bit foolish for not asking beforehand and also slightly embarrassed at the casual admission. They hadn't... _really_ exchanged bodily fluids, but it was still something that was important to ask. Itachi himself was free of all diseases of course, naturally excluding the inevitability of his cancer coming back, but it was definitely a conversation he should've had with Crow before they had ever gotten intimate.

In an abstract way, Itachi finally understood why people got pregnant or acquired STIs – it was incredibly easy to lose one's self in the heat of the moment.

Instead of following up on that train of thought, preferring to ponder it in the comfort of his own head-space when he was alone, Itachi murmured, "I trust you."

Crow laughed quietly, burying his nose in Itachi's shoulder, and said, "Well that's a comforting thought."

They were silent for a while after that, Crow simply breathing in Itachi's hair while the ex-heir tried to wrap his head around the whole situation. Even the idea of Crow being the Emperor's son was enough to completely wind him into disbelief, but he didn't want to spend his precious last minutes trying to make sense of it all. He had plenty of time later to freak out about it – even though in the end it didn't even matter, because Hatake Kakashi was dead so why did he need to over-analyse it? He would have plenty of time to ponder it later though, because he doubted he would be summoned before dinner and he wanted to focus on Crow more than anything else.

Absently, his lips lightly against the smooth skin in the hollow of Crow's throat, he asked, "What's your favourite colour?"

Crow hummed in the back of his throat, a pleasant vibration that Itachi could feel on his lips, and answered, "Green. Like the trees in Fire kind of green." There was a slight pause, and then he said, "D'you want to play twenty questions or do you want to take advantage of this fine morning in other ways?"

Itachi breathed out a laugh and then tilted his head up, accepting the captain's easy, carefree kiss with a small smile.

* * *

Yawning widely, Sasuke gingerly unwrapped himself from Sakura's sleeping body.

After untangling himself, he simply laid beside her, taking in her lithe, naked body in with his dark eyes. She was beautiful like this, her elegant limbs curled into a loose foetal position, her bare skin made pale by dawn's light. A tendril of pink hair curled around her cheek, fluttering with every breath she took, and he softly brushed it behind her ear so he could freely take in the peaceful expression on her sleeping face.

They hadn't gone all the way yet, but they had done practically everything else. He wasn't sure why they were waiting, or if there even _was_ a reasoning behind it – all he knew was that what they had now was unbelievable.

Their relationship, both as friends and later as more, was still relatively new, but at the end of the day he had never felt this type of connection with someone before. He had felt lust for girls, had enjoyed the company of others, and had even felt friendship, but Sakura was different. They were friends, closer than Sasuke had ever allowed a girl before, and they were undeniably good together. They fit, simple as that, from the contrast of their bodies to the puzzle pieces of their minds. She fit him in a way that no other had before, because her strengths were his weaknesses and vice versa.

There was still a lot between them that was unsaid. He didn't know everything about her, and probably never would no matter how long they were together. He didn't know what her favourite film was, or why she felt closer to her father than her mother, or why she wanted to be a intensivist rather than some other specialist in the medical field. There were so many things that he didn't know but despite the secrets that she clearly had (as everyone did) and the unknowns that hid the entirety of her from him, he still felt no qualms about their relationship.

He was falling in love with this girl, no doubt, and he was hopeful that he would have the rest of his life to discover all of her.

He sighed to himself, unconcerned with the fact that he was likely open like a book with his expressions. She was sleeping anyway and wouldn't be able to see his face and the feelings that were freely showing on his features. He would bring up the walls if she started to stir, because he wasn't quite ready to show all _his_ cards either. There was time for that, and he had to keep himself somewhat guarded just in case everything fell to pieces. He might've had a good feeling about her, about a future that they could share, but their relationship was still new and he genuinely couldn't wear his heart on his sleeve this early. He couldn't open himself that completely to another person unless he was absolutely sure of the conclusion, and he _wouldn't_ allow himself to get hurt by one girl who had managed to weasel her way under his skin.

He smiled slightly to himself despite the sudden melancholy of his thoughts and leant over her body, kissing her temple lightly before straightening himself up again. He watched her for a couple more moments – deep breathing that emphasised her bare breasts, a soft sigh out of full pink lips, the gooseflesh on her arms and bare legs betraying the chill of the room now that he wasn't entangled with her – before he gently moved the sheet and blanket over her body.

Sasuke forced himself out of bed with a yawn, making his way into the attached bathroom so he could have a wash. He positively smelled of sex and he wasn't going to go crashing into Itachi's room smelling like that. He didn't regret it, and the sight of Sakura groaning in pleasure as he tore her to pieces with his mouth and tongue was burnt into his brain like a brand, but sex was private. It wasn't something to wear as a badge of pride, and he wasn't going to throw it into people's faces.

He quickly took care of himself, having a quick wank before washing himself up and hopping out of the shower. He brushed his teeth methodically and popped in his contacts with a carelessness that spoke of how long he had been wearing them, and tugged on a pair of trousers and a button-up shirt that he didn't bother doing up.

With a last look at his sleeping girlfriend, he stepped quietly out of the room and padded through the hallways that usually housed dignitaries but instead was currently hosting various teenagers. He made a brief detour to one of the kitchens in the Kantei, grabbing a muffin for himself and an apple for his brother. Then, with hardly any fanfare, he began making his way to his brother's room, absently wondering at the time as he bit off the top of his muffin.

When he got to Itachi's room, his muffin gone and the trash balled in his hand, he reached out to open the door and found it locked. He raised an eyebrow, shrugged to himself, and then knocked.

There was a beat of silence, and then Itachi said from the other side, " _Hold on, I'll be right there._ " Sasuke tapped his foot absently as he heard Itachi move around, doing gods knew what, and eventually the door opened a smidge, Itachi's big, bespectacled eyes the only thing Sasuke could see through the crack.

"Oh, hello," he said, and opened the door fully, allowing Sasuke to meander inside. Sasuke took in Itachi's appearance – freshly showered, a tad bit flushed in the face (probably from the heat of his shower), hair hanging messily down his thin shoulders, clad in only a fluffy white bathrobe from the attached bathroom – and then tossed the apple at him. Itachi instinctively caught it, causing his robe to open up a tiny bit...just enough for Sasuke to see a bruise. A very _obvious_ bruise on the side of his neck.

Gods. Sakura had been right.

"Hey," Sasuke replied evenly, not acknowledging said obvious bruise even as he watched Itachi quickly tighten his robe at the neck again. Maybe Itachi was hoping that Sasuke hadn't seen it? "I was up so I figured I'd see if you were too." He tossed the ball of trash at the bin, making it cleanly, and then added, "D'you want me to come back later so you can change? I wanna get back home by ten, and as you're my ride I don't want to keep you. Gotta go see if Naruto's up anyway."

Itachi opened his mouth to speak, then cleared his throat. After a slight pause, which was weird in Sasuke's opinion, Itachi said, "That would be good. I'll be ready to go when you are, just let me finish getting ready first."

Sasuke rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Sounds good," he replied, and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, opened it, and slipped outside, he took a chance with wry amusement clear in his tone: "Nice hickey, by the way."

He heard Itachi choke on his intake of air, and Sasuke tried to smother his grin (though he failed abysmally) as he closed the door behind him.

Itachi was _so_ getting interrogated the second they got home.

* * *

Itachi sat down heavily on the end of his bed and buried his face in his palms with mortification.

He heard Crow leave the safety of the attached bathroom, dressed in his day-old regulation clothing, and sit down beside him, a shuffling that let Itachi know that the mask was coming off again. When Itachi finally sniffed and rubbed his face with his hands, he glanced over at the captain and said, "Well, what in the hell am I going to tell him now?"

Crow shrugged, biting his bottom lip to mask a smile. Itachi couldn't believe that Crow thought this was _funny_ , but perhaps in a way it kind of _was_. Itachi had never thought in his wildest dreams that his brother would find out about Itachi's relationship-of-sorts in such a lewd manner, though it was a lot better than Sasuke walking in on them doing something. Still though, it was incredibly embarrassing because Itachi was of the firm belief that sex was private and didn't need to be so obviously thrown out there for the world to see.

"Tell him that I'm helping to sneak a boy that you're seeing into your home," Crow eventually said, the small smile still plain to see on his bare face. "If anything, it'll keep him off my case when I'm in the same room as you. He's not exactly subtle about not liking me."

Itachi sighed. "He's going to want to meet you if I tell him that I'm seeing someone."

Crow was quiet for a moment and then he replied, "Keep making excuses until we figure out what's going to happen about this—" Crow's gloved hands made a vague gesture around the room, which Itachi interpreted as ' _this international incident clusterfuck we've stumbled into_ '. "—because until we know how Father and the rest of his Council react, it's pointless to set anything into stone."

Itachi nodded, not exactly liking the idea that he would have to practically lie to Sasuke but knowing that it was necessary, and then asked, "Even if we're allowed to continue this without interference, it's not like I can bring you to dinner to meet my family. The government wouldn't allow you to compromise your identity in ANBU like that, and I'm pretty sure that _my_ family would have a mutual coronary."

Crow was the one to sigh at that, though the small smile on his face never wavered. "I know. We'll figure something out."

Itachi stood up so he could step between Crow's spread knees, pressing himself against the captain's body and making them both shudder at the proximity. Crow's fingers slithered in between their bodies to gently untie Itachi's robe and he quickly succeeded, opening the front of the robe to expose Itachi's naked body.

Itachi could feel himself responding to the sensations, cock twitching as Crow sat Itachi down on his knees, the captain tracing Itachi's scars and ribs and musculature with deft fingers. It was almost funny, Itachi thought absently, that he himself was always the one who was completely naked while Crow had all (or at least most) of his on, but he wasn't really going to complain in his current position. With any luck, Itachi would have time in the future to trace every angle and line of the captain, returning the favour in kind.

Crow sighed, which made Itachi smile. "You know we don't have time for this," he said, though his fingers didn't cease their movements along Itachi's chest.

"No, but there's always later," Itachi replied, burying his face in the juncture between Crow's neck and shoulder so he could press a dry, chaste kiss into the lycra.

Crow pressed an equally soft kiss against Itachi's damp hair and murmured, "Absolutely."

It was Itachi who sighed that time, from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head, and he reluctantly pulled away. He gave himself a second or two to take in the sight of Crow, sitting on the bed with his legs slightly spread and his pale lips tilted into a smile, and then he turned away. With a slight hint of self-consciousness, he shrugged off his robe and began pulling on his change of clothes, feeling Crow's eyes on him but not quite brave enough to return the gaze. This wasn't a dark room that they were out of their minds with arousal any more; it was a brightly lit, sunny day and Crow could see every single line of Itachi, faults and all, and it was a little nerve-racking. Itachi knew that he had nothing to be ashamed of – that while he was a bit too thin and had some nasty scars he was still in pretty good shape and there was no way an ANBU captain like Crow would judge _Itachi_ for scars – but Itachi had a sliver of doubt that he wouldn't appear as 'beautiful' as Crow had described him in the bright light of the morning.

When he was fully dressed, he turned back towards Crow and returned to his place in between Crow's legs. "Come to me when you can," he whispered, and Crow simply kissed him in response, slow and languid, as if they weren't on a time limit.

"Always," Crow eventually whispered, and Itachi _believed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, and sorry about this abhorrently LONG NOTE but this really needs to be said.
> 
> So I'm still in remission, so my long absence from all my accounts has nothing to do with that. There's been a lot of personal things going on in my life for the past year, both okay and bad, that have kept me occupied, not to mention that I have been utterly uninspired to write at all, let alone in this fandom. That being said...
> 
> Orlando.
> 
> As a gay man, this hit me incredibly hard because every day I understand that either myself, my LGBT+ loved ones, and the rest of the LGBT+ community have to live with the fear that we are at risk. Every day we have to be cognisant of who we talk to and what we say in public, how we interact with people, if we should openly show affection with our partners or spouses, regardless of whether we are surrounded by like-minded people in a liberal area or not. We always have to calculate every single movement and word and action we make, in order to keep ourselves, loved ones, and community safe. Now, after decades of living like this, it comes second-nature to the LGBT+ community, myself included, and even though things are changing for the better around the world I will probably die of old age (or leukaemia...or by getting hit by a bus, who knows) before culture changes enough for the LGBT+ community to be safe enough to truly be open enough to be who we are without being targeted.
> 
> What happened in Orlando showed our community that not only could a homophobic arsehole murder forty-nine people with weapons of death that are legal in your country (which is fucking barbaric, in my opinion, but I'm English and we're anti-gun like true democracy-seeking Westerners, no offence to my readers who are gun sympathisers), but that same homophobic arsehole could also see two gay people kissing and justify that as his reasoning for murdering forty-nine people.
> 
> I just signed my divorce papers. But the day that I signed them (Wednesday, 15 June, three days after the mass shooting), I was too terrified to even shake my at-that-very-moment-ex-husband's hand because we were in Idaho and it's such a Republican state that I was convinced we were going to either get shot or cause someone else to get shot.
> 
> This is not okay. It is not okay. I'm twenty-six-years-old, for fuck's sake, almost twenty-seven. We just gained the right to marry in your country (the United States of America) last year. And now we're being butchered in the streets?!
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> This made me think of this story. Of Itachi, and the hate crime that was committed on him in this story. Of the crap that will continue to happen to him in this story. Now I'm a very politically minded guy. I'm a blatant, opinionated democratic socialist that is borderline anarchist when it comes to policy. I am the biggest fuckin' liberal you will ever meet in your goddamn life. I make Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren look like John McCain and Bill O'Reilly on a bad day. So, in a way, I am using this fiction to spin my own political beliefs. It's a common tool that is used in media and writing, and I am no different – people will continue to utilise their own agendas and/or instil their own beliefs in their works of art because that's what they're comfortable with/like/want to convey. Gun control, LGBT+ rights, and funding for leukaemia (something I have suffered from off-and-on for years) are very important to me, and writing an AU story about it in the Naruto 'verse is not only cathartic for me but also helps me relay my point of view to people who will either sympathise or will not (and if you disagree, please debate with me! I would love to speak to you in a respectful, intelligent manner...I'm not a condescending douchebag like Bill Maher after all!)
> 
> I still don't know if this is going to end on a happy or unhappy note. I want it to be happy, because Itachi deserves it and this AU world I've created deserves it and the Orlando victims deserved it most of all. But realistically, it shouldn't be happy and it should reflect the shit that people like me receive on a day-to-day basis in this world (even if it is getting better). Either way, it's gonna be a long, tough road, both for these characters and the LGBTQ+ community in the real world, but it'll be worth it, and love is love is love. We will fight for it, and we will win.


End file.
